


Nightwing Rising

by Chibifukurou



Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan), Batman - All Media Types, Dark Knight Rises (2012), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: Gen, Trans Female Character, Transmisogyny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-30
Updated: 2014-10-30
Packaged: 2018-02-23 04:19:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 26,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2533925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chibifukurou/pseuds/Chibifukurou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How Robin Blake had a fling with a terrorist, helped to save a city, and became one kickass superheroine. All while trying to figure out how to be the woman she is in a world that is convinced she's a man.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A huge thank you to Ivory Gates, who makes my work so much better than I could ever manage on my own.
> 
> Onyx-Stars made some amazing art for my fic. Which you can see at their tumblr: http://onyx-stars.tumblr.com/post/101369790945/art-for-the-story-nightwing-rising-alright

#

Nail polish remover hurt like a bitch when it got into cracked cuticles. It was one of those things that people don't think to tell you about wearing makeup. I guess most girls figure all of that out when their mother helps them paint their nails for the first time. Then there is me, pushing twenty-four and only just comfortable enough in my own skin to start letting myself be a woman.

Hissing, I blew on my nails to help it dry faster. Usually I just caked on layers of paint in varying shades until it all peels off. Or more often than not, I chewed it off. It was a nasty habit, but what could I say. Ten hour nights watching an out of the way convenience station at the poorer end of Gotham were boring and nerve-wracking by turns.

Most of the gangs in the area ignored my little patch of the Gotham. The boss paid his dues to the right people, and we only had to worry about the occasional non-affiliated robber. Well, that and the general chaos that only Gotham could breed. 

Buffing the last of the nail polish off on my ratty jeans, I moved on to my other hand. Only twenty minutes until my shift ended and I wanted to be able to head over to the St. Swithins Boys home as soon as I woke up this afternoon. Which meant getting all of my 'girly' shit off before bed. Like hell was I going to give the orphanage priest a reason to keep me from helping out at the orphanage. Father Reilly wasn't the type of priest who loved everyone equally. He was more old-school, and having one of the boys from his orphanage to come back as a woman wouldn't fit into his world-view. So I either had to hide who I really was or never see the boys again.

My decision was pretty obvious.

The door swung open, making me flinch. I swear that God damned chime was loud enough that you could hear it from a block away. I didn't know how anybody in the apartment buildings around the store managed to sleep without earplugs or some serious downers. I'd have turned the thing off the minute I got the chance if it hadn't meant losing my job. 

Glancing up from my nails I saw Scruffy. He had been coming in regularly for the last couple weeks. I'd never seen him before that and he never showed any of the skittishness that I'd come to expect in new Gothamites. He was an enigma which was more than enough to catch my interest. 

It was not like much else was going on tonight. 

Watching him through the fisheye mirrors I saw him wander back and forth down the aisles. I don't know why he bothered. I knew what he was going to get. It was always the same stuff. One small cup of the coffee I brewed strong enough to make spoons stand on end, a couple packs of whatever chips, grabbed his interest, four nutrition shakes, and then he'd come to the counter and get a pack or two of cigarettes. 

Just as expected, he came to the counter, balancing the coffee in one hand and everything else in the other. "One pack of Marlboro Longs."

I nodded and turned to grab the smokes. His gaze washed over my raising every well-honed preservation instinct I had. "So are you ever going to tell me where you're working that has you out so late at night?"

"Nearby." He replied. 

It was his usual answer and I'd mostly given up weaseling more information out of him. For all he looks absent-minded and sleepy with his droopy eyes, he never slipped up. Hell, just getting a word or two out of him, took most of my charm. In the weeks I'd talked to him, he hadn't even told me his name. 

The chime went off when I was turning back to his cigarettes. He didn't twitch. I did, but that had more to do with the pack of twenty-something that had sauntered through the door. They were wearing well tailored suits and too much confidence. 

There was only one local gang that wore that kind of flash and it wasn't Falcone family thugs. Which meant Black Mask was looking to make a point to the gang that protected my part of Gotham. The inter-crime family incidents usually centered around nightclubs and money laundering organizations. Not small mom and pop shops. The only time that changed was when they were trying to be a little more personal. If a gang went after your non-money making operations that meant they were coming after you personally.

I forced myself to smile. "Evening gentlemen. A nice night we're having." It was pouring down rain outside. 

The kid in the lead was tall and blond, with a narrow, weasely face and a nasty smile. I suspected that he planned to make my life hell before they either killed me or beat me the point I couldn't get out of bed for a few months. Still, no reason for Scruffy to suffer the same fate. Maybe I'd even get lucky and be able to scare them off with my shotgun. Fifteen minutes until my shift ended. I just needed to buy that much time.  
I made sure to keep my eyes down so they don't take offense and decide to start the violence before they finished intimidating me. I put the cigarettes on the counter. "Free since you're such a regular customer."

He looked at me and then looked over at the kids who were watching us creepily from the chip aisle. "Everything alright?"

I smiled, though I could feel it, pulling at my cheeks. It probably didn't look too reassuring, but Scruffy, had only known me for a couple weeks. There was no reason for him to ask any more questions. "Just take it alright? And have a good night."

He didn't listen. Because he was an asshole. Instead, he said. "I think I forgot to get another bag of chips."

"Fu--uck!" I reach out to grab his arm before he started something that was going to get him killed. I didn't even see him move, but all I managed to grab was air. He had been already half-way to the chip aisle before I recovered. Well, so much for playing dumb and trying to wait for him to leave. 

Reaching under the counter I pulled out my shotgun and hopped the counter. I turned the corner, just as Scruffy tried to reach around the blonde kid to grab a bag of chips. I swung the shotgun up to cover the blonde's two friends. I couldn't get the blond without risking shooting Scruffy. Maybe if I kept them covered I'd still be able to get Scruffy out of this mess in one piece. 

Doing my best to keep one eye on the minions and Scruffy, I braced for fireworks. I wasn't disappointed. Blondy puffed himself up "Are you fuckin' kidding me?"

Scruffy just raised an eyebrow like he didn't have a single clue that things are about to go down. Either he was a lot stupider than I thought he was, or he was very good at playing stupid. "I need chips."

Blondy shoved him. Or tried to anyway. Scruffy did something complicated that ended up with Blondy flying over his shoulder, just barely missing me. His fall took out the decorative display of energy drinks instead.

I stared at his vaguely twitching body in shock. That wasn't what I expected to happen. I saw something move out of the corner of my eye and jerked my attention back to the flunkies I had covered with my gun. "Don't even."

They didn't seem impressed with my gun. Not that I could blame them. Scruffy was definitely a lot scarier than I was even with a gun. Scruffy was still playing stupid. He got a couple bags of dill chips off the rack and headed back towards the register stepping over 'Blondie's moaning body. 

Unlike Scruffy the rest of us weren't so sure about what we should be doing. What was I supposed to do with an unconscious body in my store when I was busy holding two thugs at gunpoint. "Um-" I looked down at their groaning friend. "How about you go ahead and leave for tonight. Say that you ran into a couple of Falcone's boys and decided to try again later. Sound good?"

"Yeah." Thug one nodded, his eyes still glued to Scruffy's back. He skirted around me, while I kept my gun trained on Thug two. Once he had Blondie propped over his shoulder, Thug two went to open the door. I kept the gun pointed at the door until I heard their car peal away with the sound of squeal rubber on wet concrete. 

I stuck the shotgun back under the counter. Scruffy was scarfing down chips between sips of coffee and still waiting for me to check him out. "That was too stupid for words."

He shrugged.

"And you wrecked my display."

He snorted. "Ungrateful."

"I told you that you could take your snacks without paying didn't I?" 

He handed me two twenties. 

I rolled my eyes, but went ahead and got his change. He obviously wasn't leaving until I let him pay me. I grabbed a couple packs of his favorite cigarette's and added them to his pile "What else do you expect, Scruffy?"

"Basard." He shoved the cigarettes into the pockets of his cargo pants, and balanced the rest of his snacks in his arms. I watched his ass as he sauntered towards the door.

The sound of the chime had barely stopped, before it chimed again. This time it was Jason here to start his shift. He looked like he'd just rolled out of bed, his black hair stuck out in every direction. A hint of Kori's signature purple lipstick stained his cheek. And if I wasn't mistaken, he had stubble burn on the opposite side from Roy's scruff. "Crazy night?"

"Like you can talk." I motioned towards his face. "Did the three of you have fun last night?"

Jason was too self-assured to blush, but he did reach up to try and rub the lipstick off his cheek.

#

In all of the craziness the night before I forgot to finish taking my nail polish off. Hell, I'd barely made it into the door of my studio apartment before I collapsed onto the sagging bed squashed in the farthest corner. I'd stayed late to help Jason get the display taped back into one piece, even if it did tilt alarmingly. 

After that the adrenaline rush was well and truly over and I was left to stumble back towards my apartment. Paranoia made my skin buzz and left me jumping at every noise. I was exhausted enough to sleep through the first two fifteen minutes worth of wailing from my alarm clock. I only jerked awake when the neighbor started pounding on the wall next to my bed. The walls in the apartment are barely thicker than a piece of cardboard.

I was almost an hour late starting for St. Swithins, between sleeping in and having to spend ten minutes scrubbing my face in the kitchen sink to get rid of the raccoon eyes from sleeping in mascara. I used the bus ride out to the Boy's home to take off the rest of my nail polish. It only took fifteen minutes since my apartment was around three miles away but at least it was warmer than walking around outside. The weather was starting to turn which meant monsoon levels of freezing rain. At least the heat caused by too many bodies packed together in the bus kept me from freezing in my damp clothes. I did my best to ignore the dirty looks people cast my way for stinking the bus up with my nail polish remover.

Being different in Gotham was always an interesting experience. Nobody was willing to meet my eyes, just in case I was actually some sort of costumed thug. I tucked the bottle of nail polish remover into the pocket of my coat once I was finished and kept playing with the stained cotton balls until I could get off the bus. Once I'd tossed the stained cotton swabs into a trashcan and started walking the three blocks to the boy's home I looked like a perfectly respectable young man. The only thing Father Reilly would be able to complain about was my hair. It was just long enough to brush the tops of my shoulders. 

Hopefully I wouldn't have to listen to his usual rant. I wasn't planning to let the Father corner me. He always wants to talk about confession and attending Mass. I was raised Catholic, but I'd lapsed. It was just too hard to match up the world I lived in with the precepts that the Catholic Church likes to enforce. If I didn't love the boys so much, I wouldn't even bother to keep coming to the home. It held far too many memories of Father Reilly and the nuns' attempts to fix me. The building was two stories and loomed over the yard. Which was mostly sand and weeds. A fence ran around the property. Another fence ran around the roof, where there was a baseball court and a few beaten up sets of bleachers.

The whole place was depressing. It wasn't like the 'caring' people of Gotham cared about putting money into a home for troubled kids. After all, they were just going to be more criminals. And heaven help anybody that tries to explain that the boys wouldn't turn into criminals if they were given any other option than being kicked out of the house at sixteen with no education or job prospects. I headed inside. The carpets were threadbare and worn gray from years of kids walking on them. Small rooms branched off the central hallway. Most of them were supposed to be for studying and the like, but most of the books had been at the orphanage since before I was born. Besides with only Father Reilly to look after them them most of the kids wouldn't know have anyone to check their homework even if they bothered to do it. Academics tended to fall by the wayside. 

Most of the rooms were empty. I passed a couple kids playing older model Nintendos and flipping through out of date comic books. But most of the action would be upstairs in the large rooms that house the kid's bunks. I was especially careful not to make a lot of noise once I got near the stairwell that led up to the kid's rooms. Father Reilly's office was right next to the stairs. I didn't dare to tip-toe, since after years of dealing with kids Father Reilly had an almost super-natural ability to catch people acting sneaky. 

Father Reilly's door swung open with a squeal of rusty hinges. I ducked down just like I did back when I'd been a kid and sneaking into the house after getting into yet another fight at school. 

"John, is that you?"

I bit my cheek to keep from snapping back that it was Robin. "Hey, Father Reilly. I was just heading up to check in on the kids.

"I need to speak with you first." He stepped to the side and motioned for me to go into his office.

Crap, and there goes any chance of escaping the usual guilt trip. Swallowing a sigh, I headed back down the steps, keeping my eyes sullenly on the faded carpet.

The Father's office was small, barely bigger than a closet. Books lined every flat surface in the room. It made the space feel just a little more cramped than it already was. A computer that was old enough to still use floppy disks took up the majority of the space left on his desk. His desk chair was an old green leather and wooden affair. I sat down on the uncomfortable stool that was the only other furniture that fit inside the room. "What did you need to talk to me about?"

Father Reilly stared at his hands. His fingers threaded together like he was in prayer. "I'm guessing you didn't hear the news then. I was hoping that I wouldn't need to explain."

I tried to rack my brain for what he might be talking about. There was an old TV at the shop. It only got reception from a cobbled together pair of rabbit-ear antennae's. I usually kept it muted since the staticky noise of a bad connection annoyed me more than the noise helped the boredom. I couldn't remember anything that I might have seen involving the home. I didn't even remember seeing a picture of the home or any mentions of it in the newspapers that we carried. "I hadn't heard. Did one of the backers stop supporting you or something?"

Father Reilly rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, just above his collar. He addressed the computer screen instead of me. "Well, yes, Wayne Industries did cut our funding, but I was referring to the body that washed up in the sewer overflow."

I vaguely remembered a short piece at the bottom of the front page. It had been barely two paragraphs long and didn't include pictures. Dead bodies washed up every day in Gotham. "I remember something about that."

"It was one of the boys. Matthew, you remember him?"

Yeah, I remembered Matthew. A smart kid and determined as all get out. I'd figured if anybody in his class would make good on his life it would be him. After all, he was obsessed with making sure that his little brother was taken care of. "What happened?"

The Father finally managed to scrape together the courage to look at me. He spread his hands wide. "I just don't know. The police came by to talk to the boys, but Jonah wouldn't talk to them. I was hoping that maybe you could ask him what was going on? Or if somebody might have attacked Matthew?" He trailed off. 

He didn't need to continue. As little as I liked preying on the fact that the boys trusted me as a fellow St. Swithin's orphan, I couldn't let something like that continue. "I'll try to talk to him, but if he doesn't want to talk I'm not going to force him to. Is that clear?"

"Of course. I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important." He would, but now wasn't the time to start that argument over again. Pushing off of the stool I left the claustrophobic office and headed back up the stairs. Father Reilly didn't follow me out. 

I stuck my head into the younger boy's dorm I looked around for Jonah. When I didn't see Jonah I headed up the stairs to the roof. In the middle of October being outside was one of the best ways to make sure you had privacy. Given what was going on I was willing to be that solitude was what Jonah was looking for.

I found Jonah huddled down behind the bleachers. The wind wasn't too bad here. He was bundled up in a jacket that was covered in patches at so big that it came down to mid thigh, but he wasn't wearing any gloves or a scarf. He had to be freezing. At least it gave me a way to get his attention without having to resort to trying for small talk. "You've got to be freezing up here."

He hunched further down to hide his face in his knees. 

I could guess why. I still vividly recalled the teasing I got when I couldn't stop crying after my father died. It had sucked pretty hard. Unwinding my scarf I tossed it around his neck. If he wanted to unhuddle enough to wrap it around him, that would give me a chance to talk to him. 

It took long enough for my butt to go numb before he finally unclenched enough to wrap the scarf a couple of times around his neck. He tucked his hands into the hanging ends. "Did the Police send you?" 

"No. I didn't hear about Matthew until Father told me." I wanted to say that I was sorry but that was likely to make him start crying again. I draped my arm over his shoulders instead. Let him burrow into me. It was not a hug exactly, but human contact was worth a lot in situations like this. 

"He said he had found a way to make money. So we could be together. Do you think that if he hadn't been trying to help me he'd still be alive?" 

Blowing out a breath, like I'd been gut-punched, I tried to come up with a way to answer that wouldn't suck. No magical answer came to me. If there was an answer that was perfect, and made things like this not suck, I hadn't learned it in all my twenty five years on the earth. "I think that there are a lot of ways he could have died. There is no way to know if he would have survived if he'd been somewhere else. Believe me, I know that sucks, but I can't give you a better answer."

He snuffled into my scarf. I gave him time to think about that. I knew that the answer sucked, but I'd never believed in lying to be kids. Being lied to when I was little never helped me. Once he stopped crying and pulled away, I finally dared to ask, "Can you tell me where he got the job? I can go check it out and saw if I can tell you why he died."

"You're just going to tell the police. They don't care why he died. They think he deserved it."

I know I was going to regret this. "What if I promised to go check it out myself?"

Jonah jerked and twisted to look me in the eyes. His face was open and broken in the way only kids and small animals could manage. "Cross your heart?"

I ruffled his hair. "Cross my heart and hope to die." Which was probably going to be a real possibility if I went looking for a murderer's lair all on my own.

Still, it was almost worth my impending suicide to see Jonah smile. It wasn't much of a smile, but it still made me feel better. "He said he found a job in the sewers. They were looking for people to work on renovations."

And didn't that sound suspicious? A bunch of people hiring kids to do 'renovations' in the sewers. I couldn't say that though. Matthew had just been a kid who didn't know any better. "Once I find out what is going on I'll come back and tell you what I find, okay?"

Jonah ducked back into my chest. He nodded, his curly hair tickling my chin. When I moved to stand up, he just pressed closer. I let it go. It was warm enough with both of our body heats and I had another couple hours before I needed to head back home. What could it hurt to stay here for a while?


	2. Chapter 2

I wasn't actually suicidal. I realized that I wasn't a cop and going to the body dump site of a murderer was a bad plan. I took the precautions I could. I borrowed Jason's cell to call the actual police if I saw anything suspicious. I also borrowed a handgun. 

The sewer overflow was on the other side of my section of Gotham. It took two buses and just over an hour to get there. Even then I still had to walk for a good couple blocks through territory that was dodgy in a way that makes my little slice of Gotham's dysfunctional pie look sane and safe.

Even though the sun hadn't gone all the way down yet, there were already drug dealers thick on the ground. Working girls took up any space they left behind. All of them stared at me with suspicious eyes. One of the first things you learned in Gotham was to be suspicious of strangers.

If any of them had been in this town for long they'd be able to tell I was carrying. Which to them meant I was either here to steal their territory or I was a cop. It was the second possibility that made them watch me instead of trying to scare me off. I made sure to keep my eyes off their territory and on the sidewalk near my feet whenever I wasn't scanning the area for danger.

Even if they thought I might be a cop, that wouldn't save me if I pissed off the wrong person. Once I got near the sewer treatment plants, things dropped off a little. The smell of the decomposing fecal matter wasn't good for anybody's business. It took a little wandering until I found the right sewer drain. It was down a sheer embankment and I had to hop a low wall to get into a position where I could see anything in the dim evening light. 

The overflow pipe was large enough that I could probably stand on it without stooping over. There was a metal grate over the mouth, but it was half rusted away. There wasn't anything to keep a body from drifting under it and into the overflow pool. I could see why the police hadn't spent much time investigating. There were just too many possible places a body could have been before it washed up here.

Still, I promised Jonah I'd look into it. Fishing a flashlight out of my coat pocket, I used the dim beam of light to navigate closer to the tunnel. I moved carefully over the higher bits of rock that jut out of the water. I was in no hurry to be knee deep in sewer water if I could help it. It was when I was flailing about on one particularly slippery rock that my flashlight beam hit something light colored and soft looking. 

Not sure what I was seeing I crept closer. Until I heard a groan. That sent me careening into the water. I forgot the likelihood of catching some unknown disease in my hurry to get to whoever was injured before they drowned. When I got the body rolled onto its' back, I saw that it wasn't another kid.

It was a middle-aged man with graying red hair, a prominent nose, and a thick mustache. Something about him tickled a memory in the back of my brain. I'd seen him before. I just couldn't place where. He groaned again and decided that I could wait to figure out who he was. Right now I needed to get him out of the water, figure out where he was hurt, and call 911. 

He was near my height and while he was more wiry than broad, it still took some maneuvering before I could get my arms wrapped around him. Even then it took a couple tries before I get enough leverage to carry him over the rocky portions of the overflow and onto a flatter area of the embankment. It was not perfect, but it wasn't like I was going to be able to get him up and over the fence at the top of the hill.

Fishing back in my pocket, I located Jason's cell. It thankfully hadn't gotten water damaged in all my flailing about. Pressing 911, I waited to be connected to the operator. It rang twice, before a soft-spoken woman came on the line. "Gotham City Emergency Services, how can we help you?"

I cast a look at the guy next to me. "Yeah, I need an ambulance. I found this unconscious guy in the sewer system overflow. He was in the water."

There was a beat of silence. If I wasn't dealing with a trained professional I'd almost say I'd managed to shock the woman. When she started talking her voice was as calm as before. "Can you tell me who he is?"

"Um, I don't know. He kind of looks familiar. He was middle aged and has a mustache." I tried to figure out something else to say about him. 

"Okay. That's great. I'm dispatching someone to your location as we speak. Can you tell me what his injuries are?"

I chewed on my lip and poked him tentatively with a finger. "I don't really know. I kind of didn't want to touch anything in case I hurt him worse."

"I understand, sir." She did a good job of not sounding annoyed by my incompetence. "But I really need you to see if he is losing blood. If he is, then you need to put pressure on it until the ambulance can arrive." 

And damn didn't that make me feel like a complete idiot. I'd seen enough crime dramas to know that you're supposed to put pressure on bleeding wounds. "Right. I'll check."

"That's good sir. If you can start by checking his chest, thighs, and neck." I could hear people rushing around in the background, but she still sounded as cool as if we were just having a friendly chat.

Pushing aside the man's sodden trench coat, I started searching his chest. There was a tight cluster of gunshot wounds in his left shoulder. I relayed that information to the dispatcher. As well as the fact that there was a good-sized patch of blood staining the front of his shirt. 

"Do you have anything that can soak up blood?" 

"Um," I patted myself down with one hand while using the other to keep pressure on his wound. Finally running into my scarf. It was a thick woolen fabric that I didn't like to wear as much as the one I left with Jonah, but the thickness would come in handy now. It had to be good for soaking up blood. I look down at the slowly growing puddle of blood under my hand and try to figure out how to get the scarf unwound without letting go. I can't figure one out. "I'm going to have to put the phone down for a second so I can fix something." I 'didn't wait for her confirmation. As quickly as I could, I lifted my weight off of his chest and unwind my scarf. Balling it up I put it between my hands and the wound and use my weight to keep it in place. 

I could hear the tinny sound of the dispatcher's voice from the phone. If I'd been thinking I'd have put it on speaker phone before I put it down. I was considering how to get a hand free to turn it on to the speaker, when I heard the sound of metal against metal from behind me. Without thinking about it, I'd turned my back to the mouth of the overflow pipe. It was a stupid mistake. 

I did my best to filter out the tinny noise of the phone, the guy's harsh breathing from beneath me, and the trickling of water over stones. Was there somebody behind me? Prickles ran up my spine. What if there was? I still had my piece. Could I get to it in time? Slowly I moved one of my hands away from the wound. Keeping this guy from bleeding to death won't do much good if we got killed anyway. 

My gun was in the front pocket of my jacket. It meant that whoever was coming out of the pipe wouldn't be able to see what I was doing. I reached inside my coat and undid the snap on the holster and eased my gun out ever so slowly.

I heard a soft scuff of someone walking on gravel. Which meant they were near the edge of the water. Barely a yard from me. I didn't have time to think about this. Letting go of the scarf, I spun, finger already on the trigger. I could pick out the shadow of a figure, but in the dim light, I couldn't see much except that they were white with short hair, and wearing army fatigues. I started shooting, before I could reconsider. Because anybody that looked like they are coming out of a war zone in the sewers wasn't a friend. I saw the body jerk. There was a flash and a burning pain in my shoulder. 

Given the outfit I was willing to bet that my attacker was wearing body armor. Unless some miracle happened, I was going to die. Jason was never going to let me live this down. No matter how long it took him to die and meet me in the afterlife. I closed my eyes and waited for another gunshot. 

Which was of course when the sound of sirens screaming in our direction filled the night. There was a soft curse, and I dared to crack an eye open. Just in time to see the guy make a run for the sewers. I could make out a thin nose and dusty brown hair that looks kind of familiar. Then he ducked out of sight down the sewer tunnel.

My eyes fluttered back closed and I did my best to breathe through the pain. I should probably have gone to try and put pressure back on the guy's wounds, but the sirens were really close and getting up sounded like a really bad idea right now.

#


	3. Chapter 3

I glared at Officer Harrington from where I was propped up on a hospital bed. He'd been heckling me for almost two hours. Despite the fact that the guy I saved was apparently the Police Commissioner. "Like I told you, Matthew's brother wanted somebody to look into the possibility he had a construction job in the sewers. And I wanted to check it out because it sounded far-fetched. That's the kind of story Matthew would have come up with to hide the fact that he was doing something illegal."

Officer Harrington pursed his lips and gave me a dirty look. "And you felt the need to avoid telling the police about your suspicions because you didn't think we would do our job? And now you claim that some gun-wielding soldier came out of the sewers and attacked you and the commissioner. You can see where I am having a problem believing you right? After all, if you thought your friend's story about construction in the sewers was far-fetched, an army in the sewers has to seem laughable to you."

Funny how neither of us was laughing. I was tempted to cross my arms over my chest and glare at him like the child he seemed to think I was. But my left arm was stuck in a sling and doing it one-armed would just make me look even more ridiculous. 

His partner, Officer Brown, came into the room, eyes running over me before he motioned for Harrington to follow him out into the hallway. I couldn't hear much of the conversation, but whatever Brown had found out, it didn't sound like Harrington was happy about it. He stomped back into the room. "We're done with the questions for now, but you shouldn't leave Gotham. We may have more questions for you later."

I was tempted to heckle him and ask how he thought I'd be getting out of the city while I was stuck in the hospital, but bit my cheek just in time to keep from sticking my foot into it. I was already on his shit list without making it worse. I bit my tongue

I expected Harrington to try and take things further just to see if he could get me to snap, but Brown cleared his throat pointedly before he could. Which left me stuck in a hospital bed with nobody to distract me from the impeding boredom. Since they'd decided to hold me overnight for observation I decided to take advantage and watch the news. 

There was plenty of speculation about what had happened to Gordon, and why the police had randomly decided to do training drills in the sewers, but nobody seemed to know the whole story and I got tired of hearing the same recycled news bits. Cartoons were easier to follow while drugged anyway.

 

#

They let me out of the hospital late the next day. My arm was stuck in a sling to keep me from aggravating my shoulder. Jason's phone had been left behind at the sewer overflow. I'd have a fun time explaining that to Jason, along with how I'd gotten myself shot. 

Unfortunately, I had something more pressing to worry about before I dealt with Jason's overprotective freakout. The first two payphones I found were broken and reeked of piss. One was actually missing the receiver itself. Seriously, who would even bother to steal a pay phone receiver?

Thankfully the third phone booth took actually started ringing when I shoved change in the slot. It took two more calls for someone to pick up the phone. 

"Hello, may I ask who is speaking?" I'd never met Alfred Pennyworth, but I'd read enough about him in the gossip rags to know he was British, elderly, and apparently had mastered the same voice Father Reilly used to stop misbehaving kids in their tracks. 

I instinctively tried to straighten up, only to wince and hunker back down when the move pulled on my stitches. "Hi, my name is Robin Blake. I urgently need to speak with Mr. Wayne."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Wayne is not giving any interviews. Please - "

I interrupted before he could finish the obviously practiced speech and slam down the receiver. Once he hung up there wouldn't be a second chance to get what I needed. "What about Batman? Is he also unavailable for an interview?"

There was dead silence on the other end, before the receiver clicked and I was left listening to the dial-tone. Lovely, Now I just have to hope that Wayne was pissed off about me asking questions that he decided to investigate. Though if it took more than a couple days for Batman to re-appear, I'd have to see about hiking up to his stupidly isolated Manor for a chat.

Until then I was exhausted and in pain. I needed to fill my prescriptions and catch a bus home. I was working late night shift the next day, so if I went right to bed I would be able to get a good twelve hours of sleep.

#

Bruce Wayne's limo pulled up to my work just after my shift ended. It's early morning for anybody who didn't work third shift, but then I guess that Batman counted as a fellow late-night worker. It wasn't like a guy dressed as a giant bat could run around in the daylight without raising attention. 

Probably why he'd decided to come to me without the suit. Honestly, I was surprised he'd come at all. He'd been busy the previous two nights. His butler, Alfred, opened the limo's back door and motioned for me to get inside. I almost turned right back around and went back into the mini-mart. 

I was not the kind of person who got into cars with men I didn't trust. Unfortunately, whatever my personal issues, I needed Batman's help. Which meant putting aside my personal issues in order to get the job done.

Hitching my backpack up a little higher onto my back, I marched stiff-legged over to the limo, and gave Alfred a respectful nod. Then I ducked inside and took a seat as far away from Wayne as I could manage. It was remarkably dim compared to even the early-morning light outside. The windows had to be illegally tinted to get this dark.

I guessed a couple fines wouldn't mean much for a guy like Bruce Wayne. Hell, given his night-time exploits I'd be shocked if the Commissioner didn't just mysteriously misplace any parking tickets.

Settling back into the ridiculously plush seat, I shifted until I could rest my sling against my leg to take some of the pressure off my shoulder. I glared at Wayne. I might want to get this whole sewer ninja thing taken care of, but that didn't mean I was going to be the one to break first. 

Wayne tried to stare through me while Alfred closed the door, took the wheel, and smoothly pulled out into traffic. Wayne had an intimidating glare, but it's nothing compared to some of the nuns at St. Swithins.

We'd been circling the same ten block chunk of the city for half an hour before Wayne caught a clue and decided to start talking. The glare and epic frown made it clear that he wasn't happy about being the first one to speak. 

My guess was that he had somewhere important to be. Otherwise, he'd have kept the staring contest going a lot longer. I could have gone for another couple hours. All that was waiting for me was my ratty studio apartment and a frozen dinner if I even managed to get my microwave to heat up enough. The limo was warm and quiet. Hell, I'd probably sleep better here than I would back at the house. The bench seat really was ridiculously comfortable.

"How did you know I was Batman?" Wayne asked.

I shrugged. "You visited the boys home when I was a kid. You were way too angry and I got curious."

"Curious." He spat out the word like it personally offended him. Well, too bad. 

"Yeah, curious. What makes a guy worth billions of dollars who gives the impression of being drunk off his head so angry? It's a good mystery, right?"

"Right." 

"So I started looking into things. Watched the papers. I mean it was just amazing how you would either get into some sort of extreme sport accident or go on an unexpected vacation every time that Batman got into a bad fight and witnesses claimed he'd been injured." 

Wayne went back to glaring at me. I still wasn't impressed. Put him in a nun's habit and then I'd start being scared. "Then you figured all this out through taking on me once and a few newspaper clippings?"

"What, you don't think I'm that good?" I tried to sound offended. Because otherwise I 'd start laughing in his face. After which I'd be chucked out of the limo while it was still moving.

"No." 

So grumpy. If he kept frowning like that his face was going to stick. "It might have helped that you bailed me and one of my best friends out when we got attacked by a bunch of transphobic shits."

Would wonders never cease? He actually looked startled by that. He leaned back in his seat, the tight line of his jaw slackening just the tiniest bit. He recovered quickly, but the fact that I'd managed to startle Batman was going to be something to brag about to Jason. 

His shock was understandable. When I was working I stuck to the store issued polo shirt and black slacks. My hair was shaggy without being long enough to look effeminate, and I still hadn't redone my nails since my last visit to St. Swithins. I didn't look the type most people expected when they thought about hate crimes. My background was clean. I'd never been arrested for 'solicitation' or any other trumped up charges the police liked to slap on girls like me. Not to mention that all of my estrogen purchases came through Kori and not an actual doctor. 

He opened his mouth, probably to ask a bunch of inappropriate questions so I beat him to the punch. 

"So what are you doing about the sewers? Have you figured out what is down there"?"

Thankfully, Wayne was the type to be easily distracted from personal shit when there was work readily at hand. His eyes hardened and he looked out the window. "Not yet. I've been out of the game long enough that I'm having to rely on informants."

Typical. Why was my life so fucked up? In my brain I'd imagined big black and caped going down into the sewer and kicking ass. Instead I was stuck with a washed-up Bruce Wayne, who didn't even know how to go down to the sewers and investigate things. What a fucking mess. "So that's it?"

His jaw hardened and the look he gave me now wasn't really complete without the cowl. At least it was something close to intimidating. The most he'd managed since I'd gotten into the limo. "I've had some personal matters to deal with."

"Yeah." Even I wasn't completely oblivious to the mess in the stock-market the night before last. "But here's the thing. I don't actually care. There is some sort of mess coming for us, and unless you actually need billions of dollars to be Batman, I'm not really seeing what's holding up the process."

He bared his teeth and leaned forward, hands planted on knees until he was way further into my personal space than was in any way acceptable. "Yeah, then prove it and get your shit under control."

When he didn't back out of my space after a second I moved to slap him. He dodged. No shock given what he used to do every night. Still, I'd had about enough of this shit. Glancing out of the window, I saw we were stopped at a stoplight only three blocks from the mini-mart. Shoving myself as upright as I could with the limos low ceiling, I opened the door and hopped out onto the street. The driver in the neighboring car gave me a funny look, but this was Gotham. As soon as I was out from in front of his car I became just one more piece of the scenery.


	4. Chapter 4

There was no way to tell if Wayne took my challenge to prove himself or not. If he was investigating the sewers then he was doing it quietly enough that I didn't hear about it. I'd tried calling to check up on Commissioner Gordon and see if he knew anything, but they had guards with him 24/7 and there was no way I could leave a message with them asking them to see if he'd heard from Batman.

So I was stuck working at the mini-mart and privately plotting all the things I'd do to Bruce Wayne if I ever saw him again, when Scruffy, Basard, showed back up. I expected him to do his usual circuit of the store before I'd get a chance to talk to him, but the minute his eyes landed on sling that I still had to wear on my right arm, he headed directly towards me. That of course didn't keep him from being his usual close-mouthed self. He stared at it without even asking what I did to myself.

After a minute or two of this, I was at the end of my admittedly short patience. "Do you actually want anything today. Or are you just here staring at my gorgeous body?"

I actually think I managed to surprise him with that question. His eyes popped all the way open for a full second before drooping back into their normal sleepy position. "How did you get that?"

'Fighting sewer commandos' seemed like a bad thing to say. Even if it was the truth. Though hell, it wasn't like he'd believe me. "Fighting Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles in the sewer."

His eyes flicked to me and back down to the arm a few times like he was trying to figure out if it was worth asking me for a better explanation. Which would have been totally pointless, but amusing since I'd get to start describing the reptiles in question. I couldn't decide if I hoped he'd ask or keeps his mouth shut.

He went for the keeping his mouth shut option. "Two packs of cigarettes." While I got them together, he grabbed his usual coffee and chips. He also picked up a week's supply of the nutritional shakes. 

"Going away for a while?" I asked, nodding to the shakes.

He shrugged. "My brother has a hard time eating. These make things easier, and I suspect he will be very busy soon."

Well, that wasn't weird sounding at all. "Well, I hope your brother feels better soon, and can go back to eating regular food. Those things don't exactly taste good." Since he was getting more than usual, I went ahead and packed it all into a bag. I used my employee discount to help him out. I still owed him for the last time he'd been in.

He nodded at the cost and handed over exact change just like normal. I figured that would be the end of our interaction for the night. But just before he reached the door, he turned around and with a solemn face said "Cowabunga, Dude."

I cracked up so hard it made the wound in my shoulder pull and tears come to my eye. I wiped at my eyes, so distracted that I didn't notice the obnoxious chime when he left.

#

I'd taken Jason's afternoon shift to make up for the fact that Jason's phone was lost somewhere in the sewers. I was tired and cranky and I blame that for not realizing at first that everything was going to shit. I thought It was an earthquake at first, before logic took over and kicked me in the butt. I lived in fucking Gotham. 

We don't get earthquakes.

The rest of the store didn't seem to agree with me. Stuff was falling off the shelves all over the place. The carafes of coffee dipped dangerously close to the edge of the counter. And fuck it. As much of a mess as they were going to make when they broke I wasn't going to risk third degree burns to try and catch them.

Wracking my brain, I tried to remember the directions for what to do in case of an Earthquake. But like I said before, this was Gotham.We didn't really get earthquake training in school.

One of the overhead fixtures pulled away from the ceiling, sending the fluorescent tubes crashing against the hard linoleum floor. I decided I didn't need to know what to do in case of an earthquake. I just needed to get out of this building before it fell on top of me.

I had to dodge snack foods, but I made it out the door and to the center of the road before the whole store sank into the ground with a series of loud bangs and the sound of twisting metal. The surrounding apartment buildings followed the store down into the sinkhole. 

I felt numb. The store had just been there and now it was gone. If I'd been a minute slower I'd be dead. I wasn't prepared to deal with this. The screams started to rise from inside the sinkhole. I dove down into the shifting pile of rubble before I thought about the fact that there wasn't much I could do one-handed.

Once I got the first guy out, he was able to keep digging while I did my best to patch up everybody he found. It wasn't much easier to do one handed than digging, but it was much less likely to make my shoulder worse.

Jason, Kori, and Roy arrived sometime after one of the survivors had managed to string up a makeshift tarp to shelter the worst of the injured. I didn't have a way to keep time, but it had to have been hours. There still 'weren't any signs of emergency services. The survivors' whose cell phones still worked had given up calling. Nobody ever answered. That was even more terrifying than an unexplained earthquake. 

Jason went to help dig people out while Kori stayed with me. I was grateful. Kori was half-a-head taller than me and was much stronger. It didn't help I hadn't grabbed my bag when I'd fled the store. I was due for a dose of antibiotics and pain medication two hours before, and I could definitely tell.

I didn't know where Roy got off to until he returned carrying one of those old, battery powered radios. Everyone that was still able to move gathered around and watched as he flipped through the channels one after the other. He had his baseball cap pulled so far down over his face that all I could see was his deepening scowl. All of them said the same thing. "Stay in your houses. The revolution is happening now. As long as you don't resist and didn't take part in the corruption of Gotham you will not be harmed. We are here to free you from inequality." 

"What the hell does that crap even mean?" Jason snapped, slamming his hand down on the radio's power button hard enough that I was afraid it would break. 

"Who knows?" Roy replied. "But I didn't see any police officers or ambulances anywhere. Whatever the revolution is, I don't think they left anybody who could fight back alive.

Everybody was quiet for a long time after that. Finally Kori, with her never-ending ability to keep things organized, spoke up. "Then we need to make sure we get everybody out of the sinkhole as fast as we can. I don't want to be here when those revolutionaries come to make sure nobody is messing with their handiwork."

"Bossy." Typical Jason. He was already heading back towards the sinkhole. He just needed to get the last word in. This time Kori and Roy went with him to help with the digging. An elderly woman we'd dug out a few hours before stayed to help me look after the injured.

We were still digging when a one of Batman's armored tanks full of 'revolutionaries' came by and saw the chaos. For city-destroying lunatics they weren't as bad as I had expected. Nobody tried to shoot us. They gathered up the worst of the injured and when Roy dared to ask where they were being taken we were told they would receive proper medical treatment.

I doubted that was true, but I couldn't stop them either. One of them grabbed me and started towing me towards the van they'd been loading the injured into.

Jerking back, I tried to get away, but I was weak and the throbbing pain in my arm had turned into something that felt like I was being stabbed. Probably a mixture of overuse and lack of medicine. The commando kept a hold of me without even trying. When Jason came after me, he was herded away at gun-point. I watched the door of the van grow closer and braced myself to die. 

There was a burst of static on the commando's radio. The voice that came out sounded familiar, even thought that didn't make any sense. I couldn't even tell what language they were speaking. The commando let go of my arm and said a few words into the radio. The voice spoke again. The commando motioned me back towards Jason. "You are free to go. Curfew is in an hour. If you don't have anywhere to go before that time, you must report to the shelter we have set up at East Gotham Elementary School."

With that, he turned and climbed back onto the tumbler. The van's door slammed shut with an ominous bang and they drove away at a slow pace. We watched them until they turned the corner. I sagged. My knees hit the ground as soon as I thought it was safe. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, that had been close.

Jason slung my arm over his shoulder and took most of my weight. "Come on, you can spend the night with us. Your apartment is two miles away and ours is only one mile. Besides, I don't think you'd be able to walk more than a block on your own."

I couldn't exactly disagree. My whole body felt overextended and tender. A night spent at Jason's would do me good.

I slept through the night and most of the day. Kori tried to convince me to stay the next night too, but I was ready to be back in my own space. I was feeling weak enough as it was, having to walk an extra mile to St. Swithins everyday didn't seem worth it.

I made it home just as the sky was beginning to darken. There was maybe another half-hour until curfew. I'd barely started stripping out of my dust-covered clothes before somebody pounded on my door. Nervously, I edged towards the door. Looking through the peep-hole I saw pretty much the last people that I expected or wanted to see. I should have let Kori convince me to stay at their place.

I yanked the door open to reveal Commissioner Gordon with his arm slung over Officer Harrington's shoulder. "What are you doing here?"

"He says that a friend of his said he could trust you." At least Harrington didn't look much happier with the prospect of leaving Gordon under my care than I was about having a wanted fugitive in my apartment. With its one bed. 

"Look, I can guess who sent you, but I don't have the space for you." I tried to close the door in his face.

Gordon didn't seem to be listening. He put his hand out to keep me from closing the door. And because I wasn't as much of an asshole as I wanted to be, I couldn't bring myself to force him to let go. As crappy as I felt with a bullet hole in my shoulder, he had to feel a lot worse with the wounds in his chest. 

I let them in and watched, lips pursed as Harrington got Gordon settled on my bed. "How badly do the revolutionaries want him dead?" 

Harrington didn't sound happy with his answer. "I don't know. I was on his protective detail when things went down. I wanted to take him home, but he wouldn't let me. Said it would be too big of a risk to put him somewhere with police connections. We still don't know how they managed to pull off anything this big without inside help."

I look back at Gordon, who for all appearances was fast asleep. Motioning Harrington back into the hall I followed him out, leaving the door cracked so I couldn't accidentally get locked out. "I'm not going to kick him out, but I can't keep him here for more than a day."

"What you're too good to take care of one of the best men in Gotham?"

No, I didn't like the idea of having a strange man in my apartment. Particularly when that man was the leader of the Gotham City police. A group that was notorious for arresting LGBT people for bogus charges. Of course I couldn't say that. Harrington was enough of an ass without giving him a reason to dislike me more. "Just find a better place to keep him by tomorrow night."

I went back into my apartment and slammed the door before Harrington could try and guilt trip me again. I was tired, sore, and apparently sleeping on the floor for the night. 

Gordon was snoring like a wood chipper. This was going to be a long night.


	5. Chapter 5

Fuck me for agreeing to keep Gordon for a few days. Given the fact that the revolutionaries seemed more interested in turning the city against Gordon than killing him it was probably safe to send him home anyway.

But I'd promised I'd let him stay for another day. Which meant getting out of the house before I did more than just scream at him. I wandered the streets well after the enforced curfew.

Habit took me to where the store used to be. It was not like there was anybody staying in that area to report me. I was surprised to find Basard digging through the rubble of the store. "You do know there are other stores where you can get cigarettes? There are even some stores where you don't have to dig through rubble to get them."

Basard jerked upright. When he saw me he hopped from piece to piece of rubble until he was up on the edge where I was standing. Like doing parkour in a sinkhole was a perfectly reasonable thing to do. I could see the outline of cigarette boxes bulging from most of his pants pockets. "That won't be true for long."

Well, so much for having a normal conversation that didn't involve the Occupation. It seemed to be all anyone could talk about anymore. It was already a part of every waking moment of our lives, why did it need to be a part of every conversation as well? "I doubt this will last that long." 

My balance was still shot from having my arm in a sling. I moved slowly as I eased down to sit on the edge of the sinkhole. My feet hung over the edge.

Basard settled beside me with much less difficulty. "I doubt it will be over any time soon."

I stared down at the sinkhole that had swallowed my main source of security in a matter of minutes. Maybe Basard was right. But either way I didn't want to think about permanently living like this. Everyone was turning against everyone else. Police and rich people were being hunted down like dogs. It wouldn't end well. "I can't imagine that the government will let it go on too long. They don't let terrorists go around unchallenged. They'll blow them off the face of the map and us with them."

"Didn't you hear? The terrorists are holding the city hostage with a nuclear device. The government tries anything and 'BOOM' we're all dead." Basard lit up a cigarette like he hadn't just sent my understanding of the situation spiraling into chaos. 

I started to hyperventilate. Basard put his long fingered hand on the back of my neck and guided me to lean down until my head was between my knees. We stayed that way until I had calmed back down enough to start yawning. "Thanks for sitting with me. And be careful if you go back down there. I can't imagine the rubble is stable." 

"I can handle it."

I patted his shoulder. It was a move that I usually used on Jason, but it felt right and Basard didn't try to dodge it so it couldn't be too unwelcome. After all, he'd proved before that he could easily out-maneuver me. Even when I wasn't slowed down by a sling.

The walk back to the apartment was as quiet as the one to the store. And when I unlocked the door and went into the apartment, I was expecting Gordon to be waiting for me, but it was empty. A note was on the table. 'Found a new safehouse ~ Gordon'. 

Any tension that I was still carrying after spending time with Basard eased away. I could only truly be myself when I was alone. Needing to calm down the rest of the way, I dug up the hidden box I kept at the back of the counter under the sink. It was full of my nail art supplies. 

#

Gordon contacted me through Officer Harrington every few days. Harrington and I still didn't get along but things got a little less tense as time wore on. Harrington didn't like that I wouldn't help him with the anti-Occupation raids or anything that involved killing, but I was willing to inform on the terrorists movements.

Jason had a similar, if more violent, thought process and had created a little patch of safety in his neighborhood. An entire apartment block where police officers and terrorists were equally unwelcome. 

Without my job to keep me busy, my main concern was St. Swithins. One of the trucks that might be carrying the bomb had a path that brought it right next to St. Swithins three or four times a day. I saw it every time I went to help at St. Swithins. It made my skin crawl every time. Soldiers shouldn't ever be so close to defenseless kids.

It was hard for the Father to keep track of all of the boys now that they weren't even able to school during the days. So I spent a good bit of every day helping keep the kids distracted and trying to get enough food for all of them. After the first few weeks the home ran out canned goods. 

The ration station nearest to the station wouldn't let anybody pick up rations for their kids without having the kids with them. Which meant shepherding the older kids back and forth to the ration station and trying to stretch ten peoples worth of rations out to feed twenty. I went to bed hungry more often than not. 

Once I was finally able to stop wearing the sling for my shoulder, I agreed to help Gordon map out the truck's route just to get away. It was only for a few hours a week, when I wasn't busy helping at St. Swithins. But it felt good to make some sort of difference in the screwed up mess that Gotham had become. It also gave me a chance to get away from the Father for a while.

I enjoyed helping the kids, but constantly having to put on the front of a happy, heterosexual role model was wearing. Even my usual calming routine of painting my nails was becoming harder to manage. I couldn't keep the paint on my nails for more than a few hours at a time and even then I couldn't paint them more often than once every few days. I took to dressing as myself, in full Robin makeup and clothes when I trailed the trucks. It was the only thing keeping me from tearing through my own skin when my dysphoria got bad. 

It felt oddly freeing being out in public without hiding behind my identity as John. The freedom made me careless. I got closer to the truck ever time I went out. Until one time I accidentally got within sight of the terrorists who were escorting the truck. Basard was riding on the truck's tailgate in full battle gear. And to make matters worse, I recognized the outfit he was wearing. It was the same as the commando that had shot me and Gordon. And to make things even worse there was a rifle slung over his back. 

He stared back at me for long second, but as always, he recovered faster. Springing off the truck, he shoved me into an alley with a hand over my mouth. He held me there until the rumble of the truck's tires faded away. 

I got angry. "What the hell, Basard. You're with these assholes?"

"If you get caught you'll be killed." Basard dusted the dirt from the alley wall off my coat. 

I jerked away from him. "I want the boys at St. Swithins to be safe from the bomb and to not be starving half to death. If that means following around the trucks then that is what I'm going to do. And if you think I'm going to stop, then you can fuck off. Traitor."

He narrowed his eyes and I suspected that if he was more vocal he'd be chewing me out. His eyebrows were expressive enough without him saying anything. 

"Why are you even with these people? Do you really buy into this freeing us from unfairness crap?"

Basard wrapped a hand around my wrist and started leading me back towards St. Swithins. "My family."

Well, it wasn't like I couldn't understand that reason. Still, "Your family wants to kill all these people?"  
"It is a necessity."

I almost screamed at him for refusing to answer, but stopped when I remembered that we were out in the middle of the street. "At some point we're going to have to have an actual conversation about this."

We walked in silence until we reach the gates of St. Swithins. Which was of course when I realized I was still wearing a skirt and high-heeled boots. Shit! I couldn't go into St. Swithin's like this. 

I grabbed Basard's wrist and start dragging him down the street towards my apartment. I didn't relax until 'we were out of sight from the boy's home. The last thing I needed was to fight with Father Reilly about how I was giving in to temptation by being myself. 

Basard thankfully didn't ask why we were leaving the Home behind. He let me drag him all the way back to my apartment. It was one of a handful of studios above an old Butcher shop.

I had to insert the key a few times and jiggle the door until it was practically off its hinges before we could go inside. The lack of reliable electricity made the whole building chilly and damp enough to make the doors swell in their frames.

Basard continued to stay quiet until I'd kicked the door back into place and was finally able to turn my full attention back to him. "Why the hell did you have to come to Gotham and bust the place up. Wasn't it bad enough already?"

He perched on the edge of the single seater table I had shoved into the corner nearest the kitchen. Which left me with the option of sitting on my bed so that we could face each other. "Batman needs to pay for killing my sister's father.""

On second thought, I didn't think I was going to be sitting down any time soon. This was all just a little too much on top of finding out Basard was a terrorist. I needed to pace. "So what your sister thought 'Hey, I don't like this dude, Batman. You know what would be a great idea? We should burn his whole fucking city to the ground.' and you're like 'That's a great idea! '"

Basard's eyes tracked my circuits around the room, but didn't leave his place at the table. Which I was grateful for. He'd leaned his rifle against and if he tried to corner me right now I'd punch him. Better for everybody's life expectancy if he just stayed put. "Her father had a mission to cleanse Gotham. Batman kept him from doing it."

I yanked on my hair hard enough to hurt and had to pace around the room a few more times to keep from either screaming at him or trying to throttle him. "And why did you decide that Gotham needed to be wiped out in the first place? Back before it became some sort of twisted revenge scheme. What made your father decide we needed to be cleansed?"

Basard raised his hands expansively. "It is not for me to decide these things. It was ten years ago when I was barely a new recruit."

"So you just went with it not knowing why?" That just made everything worse. I could kind of understand caring about somebody enough to do their dirty work. I didn't have anybody I cared enough to sacrifice for, but I could understand the urge to fix things. But this was just. Gahhh. It was beyond my ability to comprehend. "You need to go now."

He stood but didn't move for the door. "You can't follow the trucks anymore."

"Yeah, I can. We barely know each and now we're discussing how you're going to wipe a city off the map because of your family. You don't get to tell me what I can and can't do."

"You-"

I broke in before he could finish. "Also, I really want to beat the crap out of you right now, and since there is no way that's not going to end up with me having my ass handed to me. I really think you should go."

Basard nodded a sharp jerk of his chin. He slung his rifle back over his shoulder. His lazy eyes swept over me one last time before he hunched down and his body language changed into that of someone that wasn't threatening. Something that should have been impossible when he had a rifle strapped to his back. He opened the door with single, sharp jerk and closed it behind him just as firmly.

All the air gusted out of my lungs in a bone deep sigh and I half fell onto the bed. Suddenly, so far gone past exhaustion that just standing upright was too much effort. How could a simple surveillance mission get so far out of hand that I was hosting terrorists in my apartment?


	6. Chapter 6

After that cluster-fuck of a patrol I decided I needed a few days to get my head back on straight. Jason and Kori had continued trying to get me to move into the apartment building where they'd lived since the mess started.

The apartment building had been made back in the eighties, and looked almost like a prison. There were even bars over the first story windows. The person who opened the door was a full head shorter than me and heavy set with a set of double chins, offset by a partially shaved head of bright teal hair. Their handgun was all business. 

"Hey, sorry. Jason said I could stop by anytime?" I did my best to look non-threatening. 

They pursed their lips and gave me a long, narrow-eyed look. Before waving me in with the hand that wasn't holding the gun. I couldn't help but notice the fact that their other hand didn't as much as twitch as they turned so they could keep a bead on me. 

I wondered which of my friends had trained them. Probably Kori or Roy, since Jason wasn't one to use the slow and steady glare of death. If he'd trained them, they'd most likely have grabbed me by the collar of my coat and started shaking me until answers dropped out of my mouth.

The room they let me into was more of an airlock than anything. There was the door they closed and bolted behind me, then to the left was a series of mailboxes covered with taped on flyers and spray painted curse words. Another door blocked off the hallway into the rest of the apartment. 

It was hung crookedly and looked like a recent addition to the room, half rusted over like it had been open to the elements for a lot longer than a few minutes a day when people opened and shut the outside door. 

Waving their gun, they motioned for me to take a place against the far wall. "Wait there, I'll get Jason and then he can decide what to do with you. "

"Sounds good." 

I waited until I heard bolts slide home on the inner door before moving away from the wall. I needed to pace and as long as I didn't try to get at either of the doors, whatever security measures I couldn't see weren't likely to activate.

I just needed to keep moving. 

It didn't take long before I heard the bolts twist again. Kori came back in with the person who'd first let me into the house. Kori expressionwarned me she was about to let loose with her typical biting sense of humor. She pulled me into a tight hug. Letting me rest my head against her shoulder for a long minute. Letting me bury my face in her long red hair. "I figured it was you when Shari said some crazy chick had decided to knock on the door without warning."

"Yeah, the last couple days have been crap. I figured I'd take you up on your offer and stay for a few days."

"Seriously, she actually is you guy's friend?" Shari asked. I couldn't say I blamed them for the doubt. I wasn't exactly the dangerous type like Kori, Jason, or even Roy. 

Still, I was enough of a sarcastic shit to make up for it. "What? Isn't it obvious? I'm their boy toy."

Kori wapped me upside the head. "Don't worry, Shari. We've known Robin for years. Since she started working with Jason. She's not going to turn us over to the police." Kori slung one long tan arm over my shoulder and dragged me into a partial headlock which she used to drag me towards the door. "I've missed you these last couple months. Some time to catch up will be good for all of us."

We went through the inner door. It opened on to a long, narrow hallway. There were doors every ten feet or so going forward, all of them had been left open and when we passed, I could see people packed together around tables, cleaning guns, eating rations, playing board games and poker. All the things that made up a typical day when you were stuck inside trying to wait for the revolution to be over.

If there was one thing that was going to be fairly sure by the end of this mess it was that most people in Gotham wouldn't be able to claim that technology was ruining the world. 

Not after a few months living without cell phones, computers, TV or the internet. It wasn't like the reduced tension between the generations was actually going to net us much good. 

Being stuck in the crumbling husk of the city while winter set in was only a bonding experience if we all survived it.

A stairwell led us up to the third floor. Here, things were more hectic. Kids ran by in packs. The whole space was filled with the dull buzz of people talking and laughing. The apartments on this level still had doors. Some were open to reveal rooms full of blankets, water, and dried food. One room had at multiple locks and a sign on the door. 'Danger keep out'. 

Kori caught me looking. "Our Armory. It's not much, but given the kids we want to be careful." Waving her hand at all the doors, Kori continued. " Most of the apartments here are for families with kids. Since this is the central location for supplies and the armory, it's the most heavily guarded area."

"I'm surprised you managed to get your boys to agree to take an apartment on this level. I know how much Jason enjoys getting into fights."

Kori's smile was full of big, frighteningly white teeth. "Oh, they thought we should have a spot on the first level. After the first time one of the kids walked in on us because there aren't any locks, I told them that they could either agree to move to this level, or they could give all the kids in the building the birds and the bees talk."

I had to bite my cheek to keep from laughing my ass off. Good lord, I could just imagine Jason and Roy trying to explain sex to a roomful of kids. It would have been a toss-up as to who came out of the event more traumatized. "Well, we always knew you were the brains of the outfit."

Kori was still smirking. "Roy already took the spot of most beautiful, so I had to be the best at something."

Kori's apartment was a small two bedroom affair. Still bigger than the one bedroom loft she'd shared with Jason and Roy before the occupation started. There were two windows facing out onto an alleyway. They'd been boarded over leaving gaps just big enough for Roy to fit the muzzle of his sniper rifle through. 

It was decorated with thrift store items and things that had most likely been pulled from the Dumpster. Their couch was upholstered in avocado and orange floral print that had been patched with brown plaid and had blue houndstooth cushions. The coffee-table was missing a leg and only being held upright by the stack of books from Kori's nursing courses. 

There were guns, knives, and what looked like a dissembled longbow, covering every flat surface that wasn't buried under food wrappers. At least some things, like Jason's inability to keep any space he occupied clean, hadn't been affected by a possible nuclear apocalypse. I searched for something to say about the place that wouldn't be a lie and also wouldn't be as insulting as hell. "It's — homey."

Kori had a booming laugh. The kind that tickled my chest and made my toes curl. "I'll pay you good money if you describe it like that when Jason comes home."

"No way in hell." I liked my body unperforated and Jason always got annoyed when people pointed out his terrible fashion sense. Shifting my bag a little so that it would stop digging a hole through my shoulder, I asked, "So where am I bunking down for the night."

Kori led me out of the living room into a tiny bedroom. There was barely enough room to fit a twin bed against the far wall and still walk between it and the milk-crates that were stacked against the near wall. A small boarded up window took up the third wall. At least in here I could see Kori's touch since nothing was eye-searingly colored. Things were still miss-matched and secondhand, but everything was decorated in shades of brown and blue. I could see more milk-crates peaking out from under the pile of blankets that covered the bed. "It's not much, but I've seen your apartment so I figured you wouldn't complain. Particularly since the only other place we've got open is in the single apartments where people are bunked in like sardines."

Yeah, that would have made my skin crawl to the point I wouldn't be able to sleep. "This is really nice, Kori. Thanks for setting it up for me."

She left her spot leaning against the doorjamb, rather than deal with the gratitude. "I'll go see if I can get us a couple servings of rations for tonight. I'm sure you will want to catch up with Jason before you have to deal with group meals."

Once I heard the apartment door shut, I moved to explore the room. There was a closet tucked back behind the bedroom door, though it was so tiny it wouldn't hold more than a couple shirts and one or two pairs of shoes.

The milk-crate shelf was full of books, but there were a couple crates left open for me to stuff the rest of my stuff. Once I had most of my clothes and toiletries unpacked, I tucked my bag under the bed and grabbed one of the blankets from the bed. If I lay down in bed, I'd be asleep before Jason and Roy made it back. So I'd go and spend some time on the couch and hope the eye-searing colors would keep me up.

#

I was dozing on the couch by the time the three of them came stomping back through the door. Roy was decked out with a sniper rifle, full body armor and an old fashioned longbow with a quiver of arrows hanging from his belt.

Jason was fairly bristling from the number of sharp objects that he had strapped to his legs, arms, wrists, ankles, belt, and hidden under every bit of body armor he had on. Not to mention the handguns that were tucked into every remaining nook and cranny.

Don't get me wrong. I was fully aware that Kori could take both of them in a hand-to-hand and weapons tournament, but her understated way of carrying weapons was much less frightening than the boys' version of 'subtle'.

I was glad they decided to take over an apartment complex instead of trying to fight off the terrorists. If any of them got caught out on the street by a Blackgate patrol it would turn into a blood bath. There was no confusing them for easily intimidated citizens who weren't a threat to anybody.

Roy came and sat on the couch beside me. He emptied out all his various weapons caches onto the unbalanced coffee table, making it sway alarmingly. His chin-length red hair was clumped together with sweat when he pulled off his black beanie and lets it hang loose. "It's good to see you, Robbie."

He knew how much I hated that nickname. I considered trying to punch him in the thigh. He might let me hit him, but I didn't feel like dealing with the tussle that would follow. So I settled for a dirty look and yawning widely in his face. 

Besides Kori was giving him an equally dirty look and I was sure she'd be able to give him a much better guilt trip than I would ever manage. 

"So Jason, how is the landlord business treating you?" I asked. I knew it drove Jason nutty to be compared to a respectable business person. Even before this whole mess he was always obsessed with being seen as an outlaw, the bad guy. 

I'd not bought into it since the time I caught him rescuing a box full of kittens. 

He bristled. Jaw clenching, eyes spitting fire, the whole nine yards. "We are an anti-establishment group that is illegally squatting in an apartment building." Jason replied.

I stared at him for a long minute, before breaking out into the first real laugh I'd had since the occupation started. "Is that what you call it when you run a homeless shelter for disadvantaged families?"

He shifted down and concentrated on cleaning his guns, which had been added to the precarious stack of weapons Roy had started. "Something like that. It's not like we're doing this out of the goodness of our hearts." Jason's voice practically dripped with contempt for the whole concept. "We look after our own. That's what we've always done." 

He motioned towards the door with the grease covered rag he'd been using to clean his gun. "Those families out there. They're people we knew from the clubs and support groups we were a part of. Looking after your own doesn't make you good people. It just means that you're selfish."

"What can I do to help?" I reached out towards one of the guns. Cleaning them gave me something to do with my hands. 

"You don't need to help." Jason said, pulling the weapons over towards his end of the table.   
I tried to come up with a way to convince him to let me help. I could hear the low sounds of Kori and Roy in the kitchen working on dinner. 

Whatever they were making smelled good. My stomach let out a plaintive growl. When was the last time I had eaten anything that wasn't prepackaged and able to be eaten without knowing how to cook? 

Prior to the occupation I'd survived mostly on dollar menu food and frozen dinners. Neither of which were easy to come by without grocery stores or food trucks being able to make it over the bridges into Gotham. 

"When did you last eat?" Jason asked.

I turned back to look at him, and tried to come up with an answer that didn't sound as pathetic as my internal excuses. 

He just shook his head. "I should have made you come here, instead of expecting you to actually show some kind of self preservation instinct."

I needed to do something with my hands. Grabbing one of his guns, I started disassemblele it without waiting for Jason's permission. "A. I'm not that bad, and B. When have you ever been able to make me do anything I didn't want to?" I replied, setting the gun back down on the table with a thunk. It made the whole table sway alarmingly.

Jason and I both froze, watching until it stopped moving. "I'm going to go see if I can help set the table." Before I managed to wreck the living room or accidentally shoot one of us.

After dinner, I headed back to the guest room. It was the warmest I'd been since the rolling brownouts had made it impossible to keep the heater in my apartment running for more than an hour at a time. I picked a book off the milk-crate shelf and started paging through it. It was an old copy of the Wizard of Oz. The pages were bent and stained. The cover just barely hung on.

It took me back to when I'd stolen a copy of the book from the local library. I'd first seen part of the movie when some of the older boys had snuck down late at night to watch movies that the nuns wouldn't have approved of.

After that I'd been obsessed with reading the book. But the orphanage didn't keep any copies. A book that involved magic and a man that could grant wishes wasn't something the Church approved of. I hadn't thought about the book in years. Not since I'd finished reading the book and stuffed it back into the outdoor book slot so that I wouldn't get caught with stolen goods.

Feeling comforted by the nostalgia, I took the book back to bed with me and started to read. Startling when thumps and moans started up on the other side of the wall. Reading a kid's book and listening to my best friends have acrobatic sex all at the same time. How was this my life?

Putting the book down I stuffed a pillow over my head. And did my best to fall asleep. I wasn't tired, but it was better than having to listen to the moans that came through wall.


	7. Chapter 7

A week with Kori, Jason, and Roy left me feeling not refreshed, but hopeful. An entire week with nobody expecting me to be John. The whole time I kept thinking about what Basard said about Gotham needing to change.

A week of seeing what the world would look like if everybody actually treated each other as equals left me without much choice but to realize how fucked up things in Gotham were. I still couldn't accept what Basard was going to do to Gotham.

As much as I liked the feeling of being safe and accepted I needed to look after the boys. Take any chance I had to make sure that they survived. 

Leaving the apartment building felt strange. Shari helped me carry everything downstairs and out to the front stoop without any of the reserve she'd had the week before. "You can always come back, okay?"

"Thanks Shari, but I'll be okay." I squeezed their shoulder tightly. 

"Yeah, that's why you look like a complete tosser." They eyed my polo shirt and khaki's with disgust. I couldn't blame them for the disgust. I felt it too. Particularly when standing beside Shari, who wore their true gender so blatantly.

I ruffled their short hair with a practiced move that Kori liked to use on them. They ducked away and gave me an even dirtier look than they'd given my clothes. "Maybe you deserve to get shot up after all."

Choking on a laugh, I slung my bag over my shoulder and headed for the door. If I let myself linger I'd never go out the door and get back to the blood-soaked reality of Gotham.

The snow was remarkably white with vehicle traffic so tightly controlled. This far into winter barely a day went by when we didn't get at least a fine dusting of snow that covered the dirty impressions left behind by people walking along the sidewalks and gutters.

The smell of burning trash filled the air. People huddled around dimly glowing barrels filled with whatever waste they could gather. It was a sorry sight. Full of huddled bodies covered in patched and muddy winter coats. Most with no other shelter but boxes and burnt out vehicles. I kept my head down, but didn't let my eyes stay glued to the ground. I needed to know in advance if danger was coming.

A hand shot out and grabbed my shoulder. Yanking me into an alleyway that was so tight the other arm of my jacket got caught on the rough bricks. The whole alley was in deep shadow despite the weak sunlight that trickled through the clouds overhead. 

I gripped the handle of the knife that was stuffed into my right-hand pocket. I didn't want to pull it out until I knew who had grabbed me. I made out the red scarf first. Basard, I should have known. With a sigh, I relaxed into the hold he had on my arm. "What's going on Scruffy? I don't have any cigarettes for you."

"You didn't come back to your apartment, Robin. I worried."

I should have yelled at him. It would have been the right thing to do, but I understood where he was coming from better after a week to think about it. I still didn't agree with what his family was doing. But we both think the world needs to change, and we're both desperate to protect the people we love. Yelling at him wouldn't change that. Even if I thought I could kill him, what would it prove? Pulling away, I pressed my back against the opposite wall that he was leaning against. "I needed some time to think about what you said."

He lit a cigarette. The dim light made the narrow planes of his face stand out in sharp relief. I expected him to ask me what I decided, but instead he just took deep breaths of smoke.

The pungent scent filled the air, filtering out the smell of melting plastic and trash. I couldn't think of what to say. I didn't want to bring up the deaths. "I can't approve of what you're doing. To slaughter kids along with the rest of us." I shook my head and found that it was impossible to stop shaking it. It was just so beyond anything I could justify. "I can't understand that."

Looking him in the eye I tried to convince myself that he was the bad guy. But all I could see in his eyes was sorrow and understanding. "You aren't wrong, but I have to support my siblings."

I pushed off the wall. The rough texture bit into my palms. "I can't approve of what you're doing, but if you need a place to rest, come to my apartment. I won't turn you in, but I won't help you either." 

I stuffed my hands inside my coat pockets and left the moderate shelter of the alleyway. A cold breeze stung my cheeks and I could see a handful of snowflakes fluttering towards the ground.

#

My apartment was even drearier after a week away from it. The door had been kicked open at some point. The room was barely any warmer than the air outside. A large crack bisected the glass of the window, letting the outside come in. Frost coated the inside of the window as well as the outside.

The rest of the apartments were equally ransacked. I kept looking through them until I found one with pizza boxes stacked up higher than the trash can.

I doubted they'd care if I took them and besides the smell of tomato sauce and pepperoni grease they were a good source of cardboard. Enough that I could duct tape layers of it over the crack until I couldn't feel the breeze anymore.

The room was still chilly, but at least it wasn't getting colder. Somebody had taken all the blankets off the bed. They'd tossed my closet, leaving all the clothes piled up at the bottom, but at least they'd left the clothes. I piled them all onto the bed and dug the spare blanket out of my pack. 

Then I propped a chair against the door to keep it closed and went to bed with my knife tucked under the pillow. Just in case somebody came back to loot the building a second time.

Thankfully, there were no interruptions during the night. Unless you counted me waking up half a dozen times when my clothes pile shifted and left me freezing. I got up early because I was tired of trying to fall back to sleep. It was time for me to get back into the groove of helping at St. Swithin's anyway.

I ate a ration bar from my pack before slinging it back over my shoulder and heading for the door. I didn't want to leave anything important behind when I'd be gone for a few hours. I almost tripped over a pair of folded blankets when I opened my door. There was a piece of paper, balanced on top of them, signed with the initial ~B. 

They were both rough, army grade wool, but even holding them in my hand was enough to make me warmer. It was a kind gift, and more than I'd expected considering how I'd left Basard. I tucked them both into my pack. Fished out a pen and wrote Thanks on the other side of Basard's note, just in case he came back.

#

St. Swithins hadn't changed much in the week that I was gone. The place was still as dank as ever. Maybe even more now that I'd seen the thriving community that Jason's family had made. One where the kids didn't seem to be holding their breath every second for something to go wrong and to be tossed out on the street.

It set off the maternal instincts that I'd have preferred to keep ignoring. These weren't my kids. I couldn't just smuggle them all away to Jason's apartment building. He'd take them in, because he was a good guy and perhaps more importantly, because Roy was a ridiculous soft touch when it came to kids.

That didn't stop me from spending the entire afternoon playing with the younger kids and teaching the older kids some of the defense moves Kori had taught me. Jonah was my little shadow no matter what I was doing. When I started packing up my bag he dared to come within arm's reach. His huge brown eyes bore into me. "Please don't go Mr. John."

I could stay here, make it work. I shook the thought out of my head. I couldn't be John all day, every day. "I promise I'll come back tomorrow."

Jonah twisted his fingers together, and stared a hole into the concrete between our feet. "That's what Mark said."

I bit my cheek and backpedaled trying to come up with a way to make this work. There were no good answers for when somebody was going to die. Not in Gotham anyway. Crouching down I slowly moved my hands towards his shoulders. I wanted to make sure he had time to move away if he didn't want to be touched. He didn't move. My palms pressed against the scratchy fabric of his denim jacket. "You're right. I can't promise that I have a guardian angel watching out for me and he'll do everything he can to make sure I get back safe."

His little hands reached out to press against my chest. "Do you promise, Mr. John?" 

" I promise." I leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Jonah's forehead. "And why don't you call me Robin?" 

"Robin." He whispered. He looked a little less lost and I dared to pull him into a hug. It was a loose hug, but still more contact than I usually dared to risk with any of the boys. By the time they got to St. Swithins most of the boys had been through a good half-dozen abusive homes. It was never a good idea to make them feel trapped.

Jonah appeared to take it in stride. He relaxed boneless against my chest. His small frame shook with the sobs he muffled against my coat. We stayed like that until I heard someone clearing their throat behind me. I tensed all over. None of the boys would make a sound like that, they would have just knocked us over if they wanted our attention. 

It had to be Father Reilly, who'd snuck up behind us. Wasn't that just great. I'd been hoping to get out of the building before he realized I was leaving. I should have known my luck wouldn't hold out. I gently disengaged from Jonah. "I'll see you tomorrow, okay Jonah?"

He nodded, making sure to keep his head tilted down so nobody could see his tear stained face. "Okay, Robin."

I felt myself soften at the use of my name. He really was a good kid."

Father Reilly grabbed me by the arm and dragged me towards his office. "John, we need to have a talk." 

His office was even more cluttered than before the occupation started. A cot was stuffed into the far corner. I kept my eyes moving, cataloging everything I saw. Otherwise, I'd say something to try and derail the conversation. 

"Do you want to tell me where you've been this last week?" the Father asked.

"I told you Father, I was going to be visiting some friends for the week." Told might be a strong term for it. I'd shouted the information over my shoulder while I'd been making my way towards the door. 

"Friends I don't know." He gave me the same stern look he'd given me as a child when I'd been caught shoplifting . "You need to reconsider your position, John. You know it is inadvisable to spend any time with people who are not involved with the Church."

I shifted in my seat, and started counting floor tiles like I had when I was little and didn't want to deal with Father Reilly's ideas. "I trust them with my life."

He acted like I hadn't said anything. Giving me the perfectly tame smile that assured you that he only wanted what was best for you. I forced back an instinctive shiver and kept meeting his eyes. I wasn't a kid anymore. I didn't have to fall into the same trap of believing that just because he wanted the best for me, I should just go along with his wishes. "They care about me."

The line between his eyebrows deepened and he steepled his hands in front of him. "John, I heard you asking Jonah to call you Robin. You know that you need to control these temptations."

My back stiffened. "And what if I don't think it is a temptation?"

"John!" His voice raised for the first time. "You need to control yourself. I know you are stressed, but --"

I chopped my hand through the air. "No. I'm not going to control myself. I'm not going to keep hiding. Just because you are afraid of me --"

"I think it's time for you to leave." Father Reilly stood. He didn't try to make me leave by force, but he was shaking with controlled force. 

It was the most emotion I'd ever seen from him and I didn't feel like fighting. I still respected him, no matter what else had happened. I opened my mouth to apologize only to bite it back. No matter how badly I felt for disappointing Father Reilly I wasn't going to apologize for being myself.


	8. Chapter 8

Basard was crouched beside my apartment door, pulling slow drags on his ever-present cigarette. "Hello Robin."

I felt the tight knot that had been winding ever tighter in my chest loosen a little. Even though we didn't agree on what his family was doing there was one thing I was sure of. Basard accepted me as Robin. No matter how I was dressed. "Hi, Basard. I wasn't expecting you to come see after I left things like I did."

He pushed himself upright, using the sole of his boot to put out his cigarette. "I told you. I respect people who stand by their beliefs. I brought some food for dinner." He poked his backpack with his toe.

"You could have waited inside. It's not like the door locks anymore." I replied carefully negotiating the narrow hallway so that only the edge of my coat brushed against him. 

He shrugged. "I doubt you wanted the place smelling like smoke."

I shrugged as well. I doubted that was the only reason that he had waited outside, but it wasn't like I needed to know. The door jammed and it took a few tries to get it open. Nothing looked like it had been moved since I left that morning. Everybody probably assumed the place wasn't worth looting for a second time. I still didn't let myself relax until I'd checked the closet and under the bed. I didn't need any surprises.

Basard had followed me into the apartment and was busy setting up a small contraption involving Bunsen fuel, a dented coffee bean can, and one of the pots from my cupboard. It was hard to tell what he was doing, since he was setting it all up inside the sink, but I trusted that he knew what he was doing. Besides, he'd said that he'd brought some dinner. I wasn't going to risk his getting distracted and messing up the food. Most of my rations had been going to the Boy's home and even a week at Jason's hadn't managed to banish the gnawing hunger that felt like it would chew through my ribs.

Instead, I concentrated on moving all my clothes to the floor. Once it was empty I spread the first blanket over the bare mattress. Then I carefully laid out layers of clothing on top for added warmth and laid out the second blanket over-top. I looked so warm from where I was standing that I was tempted to crawl right in, Basard's presence in the apartment be damned. But that was an urge caused by my exhaustion and the tension I still hadn't managed to shake off on my way back from St. Swithins. 

Sleeping through dinner might sound like a good idea now, but I knew that if I did it, I'd regret it in the morning when I woke up with a completely empty stomach. So I set out to distract myself with the most obvious cause of my curiosity. I had a few inches on Basard, but I still had to get on tiptoes to see over his shoulder and figure out what he was doing.

The pot was full of muddy looking liquid. I saw a couple of empty plastic wrappers of instant cup pasta and a can of condensed cream of that had knife marks around the top edge. Not the strangest thing I'd eaten unfortunately. At least it would be warm. "Thanks for making dinner."

He shrugged and poked firmly at a stubborn lump that had risen to the top with the bubbles. I considered trying to continue the conversation, but didn't have the patience for it. Instead, I went to strip out of my damp boots and socks. I grabbed a few socks from the diminished pile at the bottom of the closet. 

A hissed curse caught my attention and I looked up to see Basard sucking on his fingers. 

"You burn yourself?"

He glared at me, without taking his fingers out of his mouth to actually talk. I was tempted to tell him that he looked like one of tots at St. Swithins. I dug through the kitchen drawers until I found a towel that I could use to lift the pot off the makeshift burner. There was a sizzling sound when I put it down on the counter top. Whenever I moved it, there'd probably be another burnt ring marking the cheap linoleum. I sighed, but didn't bother to try and find a better spot for it. If we survived this mess there would be a lot more things from my landlord to complain about besides a partially burnt countertop. 

While I'd been moping over the state of my counters, Basard had apparently gotten annoyed with having to keep sucking on his fingers. When I turned around to check on him, I found him bent half-way out the window, my cardboard windbreak pushed to the side. There were a few thumps and then he pulled himself back inside. His fingers were wrapped around a moderately sized icicle. "Feel better?"

That was definitely a pout he was sending my way. I might value my life too much to tease him about being childish but that didn't mean I couldn't smirk at him. A fact that just made him frown harder. 

I turned away before he decided to do something drastic to get me to stop smirking. "Come get some soup. I'll get the window put back together." My looters had been kind enough to leave me most of my dishes. I guess nobody really wants third hand Salvation army plates or dollar store cutlery. "Do you need to turn off the burner?" 

He shook his head. Going over to his backpack he dug around for a long minute. It gave me a great opportunity to ogle his ass. He might be a skinny dude, but that definitely didn't extend to his tail end. He gave a pleased hum and I quickly turned to survey the soup. 

Once he moved away from his pack and I didn't think it would be too obvious that I'd been ogling him, I looked up. He had a can of stewed apples held up victoriously in the hand, he wasn't using to clutch the icicle. I went to see if I could actually find another pot to cook them in, since there was more than two bowls of soup.

They end up getting cooked in a frying-pan that was just barely big enough thanks to the large dent in its side. 

Given that he brought me the blankets I was using on the bed, I felt bad making Basard sit on the rickety chair. We ended up sitting on opposite ends of the bed, backs leaned up against the wall and our feet jutting off into space. He still doesn't seem to be in a talking mood. Which was fine with me. I still wasn't sure what I could safely talk about. I didn't want to be responsible if Jason's building or the boys home got raided. 

The soup was - odd. Chunky and bland, but it did help get rid of the chill that seemed to have become a part of my body. I went back and got another bowl and actually felt full. Basard took the last bowl of soup and then we split the apples. Having so much food all at once left me yawning. "Thanks again for dinner, Basard."

He used my towel to wrap up the still warm coffee can burner and didn't reply. Zipping up his bag, he started to sling it over his shoulder. I bit my lip and tried to convince myself to just let him leave. It wasn't like we were friends. He'd just saved my life a few times. Glancing at the window I tried to do the math and figure out what time it was. It had to be dark by now and scary commando ninja or not nobody should be out after dark in Gotham. "Stay."

He stopped adjusting his pack straps and with a slow deliberation lifted his head so he could stare at me. One eyebrow lifted in question. 

"You made dinner and brought me blankets. I'm not a complete ass, and this kind of counts as our third date." If you counted the previous two times that he'd saved my ass. "Why don't you stay the night?"

His other eyebrow rose to join the first. 

"Not in a sexy way, you ass." 

That actually got him to crack a smile and he eased his pack back off and left it propped up against the wall. His coat, scarf, and boots were added to the stack. Underneath he'd been wearing a dark colored Henley and a fleece pullover. Which unfortunately made him look even more attractive than he usually does in his coat. I looked away before I'm tempted to break my own rules about no sexy times. "You need to do anything before bed?" 

He shook his head. Given the fact that it was chilly inside there wasn't much point changing into a different outfit to sleep in. It would just mean losing more body heat. Having both of us in the bed meant squeezing tightly together. We ended up facing each other, bodies both inches apart. I doubted the position would last, but I didn't feel like trying to figure out who would be the little or big spoon. I turned out the camp lantern that we'd been using to light the apartment. The whole room went dark thanks to the cardboard over the window.

Having someone breathing beside me was both comforting and disconcerting. I'd never had a room of my own back at St. Swithins. There had always been a few other boys' snores to lull me to sleep. It had been a hard adjustment when I'd first moved out on my own. Now it seemed like I was having a hard time adjusting back to sharing a space.

It probably didn't help how silently Basard breathed. There was no nasally whistle or wood-chipper snore. Just deep breaths in and out that soon settled into a steady rhythm. I ended up counting sheep to fall asleep. Even then it took me until sheep one hundred and eighteen before I dropped off.

#

When I woke up the next morning, I was alone in the bed. The blankets were tucked tightly around me to keep any heat from escaping. I doubted Basard was planning to come back to bed. I turned on the lantern and glanced around the apartment looking for any sign of him, but even his stack of belongings was gone. In its place I saw a lumpy looking garbage sack. 

Curiosity tempted me from the warmth of my bed. I tiptoed across the thin carpet cussing the cold all the way. Once I had a good hold of the bag I goose-stepped back into bed and dove beneath the covers head and all. Jesus, I really needed to get myself a hat to sleep in. It felt like my ears were going to freeze right off. 

I made a blanket cave by pulling the lantern under the blankets with me. It took me a few tries before I could figure out how Basard had tied the bag closed. Finally, it came open. Inside were a few dozen ration packs. Enough to help get St. Swithins stores up until I was able to hit enough ration stations to make up the difference from my week away.

All together they were probably worth a good dozen packs of cigarettes. Cigarettes that someone with Basard's chain smoking habit would surely miss. It was an extremely sweet gift since I had all but told him I wanted nothing to do with his family or their mission. Between this and the dinner I didn't know what to do. It should be obvious that Basard didn't mind that I wasn't interested in supporting his cause. 

Particularly since he'd told me himself that he was only going along in order to please his siblings.

My suspicious mind couldn't help but bring up all sorts of ulterior motives for him to be nice to me. What if he thought I still knew where the Commissioner was staying? Or they wanted information on Jason's group? 

I forced back the panic that tried to rise up and choke me. It wasn't like Basard had been interrogating me. He'd barely said a word. I might not be able to trust him completely, but that was no reason to let my imagination get away from me. I needed to get ready to go to St. Swithins. Father Reilly said I wasn't welcome back unless I was willing to give up my feminine ways. 

Getting up I pulled off the top blanket layer to reveal my clothes. They'd shifted to the bottom of the bed during the night. I fished out a pair of khakis and then went to grab a polo shirt as well. One of my favorite skirts fell to the floor. I stared at it for a moment. I should pick it up and put it back on the bed. Instead, I ended up running the silky fabric between my fingers. 

Why should I do what Father Reilly wanted? I was the one with resources. I could make him let me be around the boys. How would he stop me? It wasn't like he had anyone else rushing to help at the home. I chewed on my lip and tried to wrestle the urge to dress up into submission. I should just put on the polo shirt and forget about this. Only I didn't want to do that. 

I wanted to be angry. To stop letting the way I'd been raised hold me back from expressing my true feelings. The polo shirt crumpled into a ball in my fist. Just this once I was going to do it. Tossing the shirt onto the bed, I grabbed a lavender blouse instead. Then I took the lantern with me into the bathroom where my makeup case was still stuffed in the furthest corner of the cupboard under the sink. If I was really going to risk everything to stand up for myself then I was going to do it right.

When I left the house I was dressed as Robin from my black flats to my lightly made up face. The bag of rations was stuffed into my beat-up duffle where it hopefully wouldn't draw the wrong kind of attention.

The boys descended on the rations like the brats they were. I got a few odd looks at my skirt and Jonathan, who was even more of a troublemaker than the others, even tried to look under it, before I grabbed him by the ear. After that they only took a second for them to run off with my whole bag. For once I didn't wait for Father Reilly to come find me. I went straight to his office. I'd been brave enough to come here as Robin instead of John but that didn't mean I wanted to wait for a few hours to see how he'd react. No, that was a lie. I knew how he would react. 

I pushed the door open gently. They slow motion felt ominous. Even though that was all in my head, it still made my skin crawl. Father Reilly was facing away from me leaning over his desk. I could just barely see they tuft of his gray hair over the back of his cardigan. "Noah, what did I tell you about coming in here while I'm working?"

"I'm not Noah." I replied.

"Oh, John. I wasn't expecting you for a few more hours." He turned to look at me and I felt that same spike of fear that I'd felt when I'd opened the door. He was smiling as he turned. His eyes crinkled up until they were almost hidden by his wrinkles. When he saw me, his face froze. I could see the whites all around his eyes, the skin around his mouth sagged. We stared at each other. Finally, he spoke, "John. We talked about this. You can't come here dressed like --." His voice failed him.

That was fine. My earlier sickening feeling of fear had turned into a hard shell of anger. "Dressed like what?" My voice cracked on the final word. "Like myself?"

"This isn't you, John. If you would just."

I cut him off. I knew the words that followed by heart. "If I would just pray then God would take these feelings away. That doesn't work, Father. Do you think I want to be different? That I want to have people stare at me like I'm a freak?"

That shut him up, but he didn't look like he understood. The muscle at the corner of his mouth twitched. I could practically feel him getting ready to continue the old argument. I'd had enough. I'd thought I needed to prove something to Father Reilly. I'd been wrong. There wasn't anything for me here. "I'm not going to leave. I don't care what you think about me."

He opened his mouth, but I didn't stick around to hear what he had to say. I wasn't interested. Besides my time would be better spent with the boys.

#

Officer Harrington was waiting for me at my apartment building when I got back. He was sitting on my bed, my pile of clothes were tossed on the floor. I glared at him and slammed my bag down in the kitchen. "I didn't say you could be in here."

"What did you expect. You disappear on us with only a note about having 'personal business' to attend to. We don't like people that aren't fully committed to protecting Gotham."

The part of my brain that didn't like being poked wondered what Harrington would think if he realized that he was sitting in the same bed that I'd shared the night before with one of the terrorists. Thankfully, I had a firm enough hold of that part of my brain to keep myself from saying anything incriminating. I didn't have the same amount of control when it came to my anger. I'd just pissed off the man who had raised me, I wasn't in the mood to have anybody else tell me how to live my life. "I needed to take a week, I didn't realize we weren't allowed to take care of our friends and family anymore."

He stood up and got in my space. I lifted my chin and stared him in the eye. If he wanted me to be intimidated he was going to have to try harder. He poked me in the chest with his finger. "I don't like having weirdos like you around. But I was willing to ignore that since Commissioner Gordon said his informant vouched for you. Now, though, I've got to wonder if you sold us out."

I stepped back. Brain scrambling to figure out where a good weapon was if he decided to get physical. The knife drawer was about two steps away. Could I get to it before he pulled his gun? "And why would I do something like that? My entire life and family are in this town. I don't want to see them go up in a nuclear blast anymore than you do." I backed away a step trying to act like it was to get away from his pointing finger.

He seemed to buy it, he didn't look around to make sure I wasn't up to anything. Instead, he just followed me, which gave me a good excuse to take another step back until the counter dug into my back and I could reach the knife drawer with my right hand. "Because I'm not a moron. You disappear for a week and then suddenly the trucks around your precious boy's home change their route and you don't contact us to come back to work patrols."

"They moved the route?" How had I not noticed that? "I'd been planning to rejoin the patrols once I was settled back in and had gathered enough food for the boys."

"Yeah, right. Like a slut like you wouldn't just fuck some terrorist to get what they wanted."   
The rage I kept carefully banked, flared up and I swung before I could rethink my action. My hand left a red mark across his cheek. He staggered back a step hand scrambling at the gun holster he had hidden under his jacket. Stunned, it took him a few precious seconds to get the gun untangled from his jacket. 

Enough time that I could yank open the knife drawer and grab the biggest knife I owned. I had it pressed point first to his throat before he could get the gun aimed in my direction. "Even if I was fucking a terrorist to protect my kids, that wouldn't be any of your fucking business as long as I didn't trade any secrets about the Resistance. But I'm pretty sure that's not why you're pissed. You just don't like that I'm not 'grateful' to you normal people for letting me be a part of your Resistance." I started walking him backwards towards the door. "Well, I've got news for you. I'm not going to be grateful to a fucking bigot just because he didn't kill me. So get the hell out." I slammed the door in his face and dove for the floor.

I made it just in time. There was a series of bangs and a tight cluster of bullets splintered the door. I waited to see if Harrington would come back into my apartment to make sure I was actually dead. Stretched out like I was I could feel the vibrations in the floorboards when he walked away instead. 

Once I heard the door that led to the street slam closed I got up and started stuffing everything I could get my hands on into my pack. There was no way I could stay here any longer.


	9. Chapter 9

I didn't want to go back to Kory and Jason. If they found out what Harrington had done, they'd try to hunt him down and murder him. Instead, I took over one of the closets at St. Swithins. Put in a camp cot and piled all of my belongings around it. I waited for Harrington to show up and spent the next few weeks sleeping with my knife hidden under my pillow.

I didn't see Basard during that time either, but I knew he was around. Packs of rations and the occasional chocolate bar showed up on the porch of St. Swithins every few days. Father Reilly continued to avoid me whenever possible. The boys on the other hand seemed to thrive on having another adult to give them attention. 

I finally started to relax back into a routine. I'd check the front steps of the boys home in the morning to see if Basard had left anything, then, depending on our stores, I'd go out to the nearest ration station with a group of older boys and we'd get as much food as we could to bring back to the younger kids. The afternoon was spent helping the boys with basic math and reading. I wasn't much good at schoolwork, but thankfully the older boys were able to help with some of the classes. Father Reilly taught Bible classes in the afternoons as well, but I made a point of never attending and any of the boys who wanted to skip were welcome to join me. 

It was a tense situation and I expected it to lead to me getting kicked out along with the boys that followed my example. Thankfully, things never had a chance to get to that point. 

The third Sunday after I moved into the boys home, there was a note waiting for me instead of the usual food. It was a map of Gotham and somebody had marked one of the bridges leading off the island with a big red X. A note was written in the same ink. It said, simply. "Get them out today ~B"   
My breath caught and I scrambled to figure out a way to get everybody out. Not just the boys but Jason's group too. I chewed on my lip and tried to get my ragged breath back under control. Panicking wasn't going to help anything. Stuffing the note in my pocket I ran for the chapel. Father Reilly and most of the boys would be in mass.

I burst through the door and into the chapel. Father Reilly stopped talking and stared at me wide eyed. The boys turned to stare at me. "I need everybody to go pack a bag and get ready to move."

"John, this is hardly the time." Father Reilly started.

I didn't have time for it. "Look, I just got word that we need to get out today. A friend of mind has a safe passage set up." 

The boys looked back and forth between me and Father Reilly a couple times before the older boys who had gotten used to working with me started shepherding them out. I grabbed Jacob, one of the older boys that was the best at getting around the city, "I need you to take a note for me. It could save a lot of lives. Can you do it?"

Jacob glanced over his shoulder at the rest of the kids. He didn't have any younger siblings, but he was a good kid who always did his best to make sure everybody was safe and had enough to heat. He looked back at me. "You'll look after them for me?"

"I will." I said, making sure to look him in the eye and doing my best to let him know how serious I was.

After a moment's consideration, he nodded.

"Okay, get your stuff. I'll get you some directions." 

Father Reilly reached us just as we finished our conversation. His face was set in grim lines eyes sparking with more anger than I'd ever seen. "How dare you! Asking them to risk their lives on some hunch."

"This isn't some hunch." I replied.

He stood to his full height and gave me a look. "I've been giving you space given how stressed things have been. I didn't tell you not to help the police because the good Lord knows that I understand the urge to fight to protect what you care about, but this is taking things too far. We're safe here and I won't have you risking my kids lives out of some sense of pride."

This was the part of Father Reilly that I had always respected. No matter what, he would do what it took to protect his principles. Even though I didn't approve of how what he believed and how far he would go to make people fit into his mold of Godly belief. Out of my respect for his motivation, I did my best to keep from reacting in anger. "I know you think we're safe here, but I trust Basard. If he says we need to go now, we need to do it."

"But-" He grabbed my arm.

I shook him off. "I understand that you are scared, but honestly, I don't have time to wait for you to figure out what you want to do. I'm going to take the boys and get them to safety, even if that means I have to leave you here." 

I left him in the chapel and headed for the basement. We still had a few cans of gasoline saved to run the emergency generator. They should be enough to get the old Activities Bus running. Jacob found me as I was carrying the ten gallon cans up the narrow basement steps one at a time. I dug the map back out of my pocket and used a pen to mark out the path to Jason's building. "Take this with you and tell them that Robin sent you, okay? Then just follow the map and it will get you all out of Gotham."

He tucked the map away. "Thanks for helping look after us." He said. It wasn't a goodbye, but it might as well have been. 

Much as I didn't want to think of it that way, I might be sending him off to die, either on the way to Jason's or because Jason couldn't move his group fast enough to make it out before whatever was coming. I just wished I had another option. None of the boys knew how to drive the bus and I couldn't trust Father Reilly to come around in time. So I had to stay, and unless I was willing to let my best friends die, I had to send somebody to warn them. I pulled Jacob into a tight hug. "Thank you for doing this. I promise I'll make sure the boys are taken care of.

I waited until he was gone before dropping down onto the step and allowing myself a few minutes to cry. Then I wiped the tears away and forced myself to concentrate on the task at hand. I needed to get the gas up to the bus. 

#

Father Reilly caught up with us just as the bus sputtered to life. The kids were packed tightly onto every bench and even on the floor so that everyone fit. Father Reilly ended up sitting next to me at the front of the bus.

The streets were empty. There were no signs of Terrorists or even other Gothamites. Just empty streets and a feeling like the whole city was holding its breath. The kids were infected with the feeling too. They talked to each other as we made our way slowly across the island towards the bridge, but they never dared to speak louder than a soft whisper. 

Until Noah yelled "Look!" at the top of his lungs. I jerked the wheel in surprise and it was only luck that kept us from skidding out. Once the bus had rolled to a stop I looked around to see what had caught his attention. There, on one of the other bridges that jutted far above the buildings in this area. It was the bat symbol lit up in flame. I felt my jaw drop. As little respect for Batman as I had, even I had to be a little impressed by the fact that Bruce Wayne had found his way out of whatever pit Bane had thrown him into.

I doubted Bane would let it happen again. No wonder Basard had told me to get out now. If Bane looked like he was going to lose, then whatever triggerman they had in place would blow the city to smithereens. I shifted the bus back into gear and put my full attention back on the road. I could deal with my fears about Basard getting killed once we were safely away from the bomb radius.

We picked up a caravan of family vehicles halfway to the bridge. A red hotrod pulled up beside the bus so that I could see Jacob, Jason, Kori, and Roy all safely inside. A little bit of my terror loosened at the sight of them. Maybe we'd all make it out after all.

When we got to the bridge, I could see Basard's handiwork. There weren't any signs of the terrorists. The only people in sight were the United States soldiers at the far side of the bridge. We were safe. Only when we got halfway over the bridge the soldier's started pointing their guns at us. I shifted into park and stared at the line of soldiers arrayed in front of us. This couldn't be happening. I heard the growl of Jason's car as it pulled in front of the bus. He got out, backed by Kori and went to talk to the soldiers. I couldn't make out what was being said, but I could hear the tone and see the angry line of Jason's spine. We weren't going to be able get out of Gotham after all.

"Father, help us." Father Reilly said, crossing himself. 

I looked out of his side of the bus, and saw a bloom of fire filling the sky out over the water. The aftershock hit us with a concussive blast that made the Bus's windows rattle and the whole bridge shake. The bomb had just gone off. Now we just had to wait and see if the rest of Gotham had survived the blast.

#

Despite the national guard and FEMA's efforts it was months before any sort of control could be exerted over Gotham. Months filled with social workers that came to look at the boys and then left without helping. We were barely getting more help than we had during the Occupation. I'd learned to ignore the constant arrivals of strangers after the third time I'd almost been kicked out for starting a fight with one of the aid-workers. 

So when yet another suit wearing yuppie showed up at the home, I hid. Until Jonah found me in the kitchen making soup. "Father Reilly wants to see you. He said it was really important and that you should bring your ID."

Lovely, having to prove that I wasn't some kind of predator was always a fun way to spend an afternoon. I turned the soup down to a slow simmer and put a lid on it. "Thanks Jonah, I'll head to his office right away."

Jonah nodded with a serious look on his face before he gave me a big grin, grabbed a couple slices of the carrot I'd been chopping and ran for the door. I shook my head at his antics. Glad as I was that he was dealing better with his brother's death, that didn't mean he was any less exhausting to keep up with.

I grabbed my purse and headed for Father Reilly's office. Suit-guy was sitting in the cramped space with him. He shifted uncomfortably when he saw me. "Father Reilly, as I said before I'm here for Mr. John Blake."

Well wasn't that special. I fished my ID out and shoved it into his hands. "That would be me. Now what's the problem."

The guy dabbed at his forehead and kept looking back and forth from the ID to me. It was an old card and still had me down as Robin John Blake with a picture of me dressed as masculinity as possible on it. I waited for him to figure out what he wanted to say, making a mental bet to myself that he'd run for the hills as soon as he decided that, yes, I was actually Robin John Blake and I was also transgender.

He handed the license back to me and dabbed at his forehead again. "As I was telling Father Reilly, I'm here in regards to the estate of Bruce Wayne. You were mentioned in his will and-" He twisted the kerchief between his hands. "And you were named in the will as his friend." The emphasis he put on the word friend gave me more than a little idea of how exactly he thought I'd been connected with Wayne. The old beliefs that all trans women were sex workers raised its ugly head again. 

I let him sweat it out while I decided if it was worth trying to correct him. Probably not, since I couldn't explain that I'd known Wayne through Batman. Finally, I let him off the hook. "What time?"

"Um, well, perhaps we could have a private reading for you. Since I'm sure you are very busy."

I showed my teeth in an expression that could barely be called a smile. "Oh, I'm sure I could make time. When is the will being read?"

Managing the impossible, he actually started sweating even harder. "Um-," he cleared his throat, "this Friday at eleven in the morning."

"All right, I'll see you there."

He gave me a wild-eyed look and I expected him to make another attempt to make me come at a different time. Whatever he saw on my face sent him scurrying for the door instead. I rolled my eyes at his antics and turned to Father Reilly. "Thanks for letting me know he was here."

Father Reilly gave me a curious look. I didn't want to know if he thought I'd been fucking Wayne too, so I started backing towards the door. "I'm going to go finish making dinner."


	10. Chapter 10

So I was stuck with the coordinates to what I suspected was Wayne's super secret lair, and a duffel bag of climbing gear. What the hell was I supposed to do with that? What did Wayne think I was going to do? Magically spring into action as the Batman and make all evildoers tremble in fear? If so, he'd been even crazier than I'd suspected when I'd heard about a guy running around Gotham in tights and a giant bat costume.

The secretary let me use her phone to call Kori to pick me up. The bus stop was only a block away from the lawyer's office, but I didn't feel like trying to navigate the bus while carrying a duffel full of climbing equipment and a map that held all Batman's secrets. 

At best it would be annoying. More likely somebody would think I was trying to rob something and either take the duffel from me or call the cops. I didn't need to deal with the cops so soon after accidentally reappearing from the dead on Gordon.

That would just be asking for trouble. Kori drove a tiny two-seater convertible that might have been cool back when the eighties were the height of fashion. And before it was neon purple. 

Jason had given her the paint-job for her last birthday, and between the color and the age of the car, nobody gave me a second look when she pulled up next to the curb.

I got in, and sank into the bench seat, making sure to avoid the spring that was sticking out from the side. As soon as the door closed the sound from outside dropped off in favor of the thumping dub-step dance music Kori preferred. 

It wasn't quiet, but it was still way more relaxing than dealing with all the people talking and moving around on the sidewalks. I hadn't realized how used to the quiet streets during occupation. The music dropped off, drawing my attention back to the present.

"So how was the will reading?" Kori asked, giving me a considering look from over her purple tinted sun-glasses. She must have decided I'd had enough time to relax. Her curiosity was almost worse than mine. 

I groaned and rubbed the heels of my palms into my eyes. "Bruce Wayne was a complete and utter idiot." 

"Well, we already knew that." The tires squealed as she took advantage of a gap between two cars to pull back into the fast lane. "I mean, did you see the fashion disaster, he called a costume?"

"I think he was trying to scare people by being dark and brooding." Not that I found that particularly scary. It was loud people you had to look out for.

Kori snorted and slammed her hand down on the car horn. "Scary, my ass. Bats are adorable fluffy babies that eat bugs. If he wanted to be scary he should have dressed up as a clown. Now those are scary."

I couldn't exactly argue. I didn't share Kori's phobia of clowns, but they were definitely creepier than bats. Still, unless I wanted to listen to her usual rant about clowns, I needed to change the subject fast. Luckily, I had the perfect conversation starter sitting inside the duffel at my feet. "I meant he was crazy because he decided that I would make the perfect person to take over as Batman."

Kori slammed on her brakes, to the blaring horns of all the cars around us. "HE DID WHAT?"

Rolling my eyes, I settled back into my seat. "If you don't start driving again, I'm not going to tell you."

She stuck out her lip in a full pout and did her best to act like I had suddenly vanished out of the passenger seat. Her driving managed to become even more terrifying. Maybe Batman should have just given up and dressed as a purple convertible. Anybody who'd ever driven with Kori would have been suitably terrified.

"So?" 

"So, he left the location to the of his lair and a bag a bag full of climbing gear to me in his will."

"Well that was stupid. What if they hadn't been able to find you? Was he planning for them to just keep it in their storage unit until it got sold off?"

"I told you he was crazy. I mean what made him think I'd be a good Batman?"

Kori deflated beside me. All her earlier biting humor shucking away as she gave me a soft look. "You'd be a good Batman because you care about the people in Gotham. More than I would anyway."

"I can fire a gun and scare a bunch of thugs off, but it's not like I know anything about jumping along rooftops and using ninja moves to defeat masked villains. I'm a mini-mart clerk not a-" I tried to find the word for it. "Masked vigilante."

"You can always be both. I mean just look at Jason." 

I twisted to get a good look at her face. She was keeping her eyes on determinedly on the road. Which was so unlike her it just made my conviction that she was teasing me seem more likely. Finally, her eyes flicked in my direction and she couldn't keep it together any longer. The corner of her mouth twitched upwards into a smirk.

Leaning back, I turned to watch stalled traffic out the window. "Jason doesn't go around dressed in spandex and bat ears."

"No, but maybe he'd be willing to start if you were doing it. If it made you happy we'd probably all get dressed up in ridiculous costumes and help out."

It was my turn to pout. "I am happy."

"No, you are content to play den-mother to your kids. And glad as I am that you are finally telling that priest of yours where he can shove his gender-shaming garbage, he's not going to let you keep coming around the orphanage forever." She took one of her hands off the wheel to run it through my hair. "You need a way to help people. One that doesn't depend on staying in anyone's good graces. Maybe being a superhero will do that."

"Do I really look like the kind of person who gets dressed in black and broods on rooftops?"

Kori knew me well enough that I didn't really have to explain my reasoning. She ran the hand in my hair down my shoulder until she was lightly holding my hand. I wanted to stay annoyed, but it was getting harder with her being so caring and reasonable. "So don't go around being big, black, and broody. Take what he gave you and make your own hero."

#

'Make your own hero.' It sounded trite, but the idea stuck in my head over the next few weeks. I thought about what kind of hero I'd want Gotham to have while I was helping out the boys home. I considered thematic color schemes while I was clothes shopping. Hell, I even started having dreams about flying over Gotham.

It seemed like I couldn't get away from the idea. I decided that I needed to take drastic steps before this went too far. The next time I had two days off in a row, I dug out the duffel bag from where I'd hidden it in the back of Jason's guest room closet.

Slinging it over my back, I headed out into the living room. Roy was waiting for me, dressed in hiking gear with a trucker hat pulled down over his long, red hair, and carrying a backpack of his own. "Ready to head out?"

I gave him a dirty look. "Do I want to know how you knew what I was doing?"

"Kori." He grabbed his keys out of the bowl by the door and started down towards street level. The elevators in the building were still spotty so we took the stairs. I spent the whole climb down, glaring at his back.

Once we were out on the street and able to walk side-by-side Roy started talking again. "She said you needed to hike out-of-town and didn't want you going alone."

"And you just volunteered?" Of the three of them, Roy and I had the least in common. The only thing we regularly talked about was our shared love of kids. 

"Jason volunteered." He guided me towards his beat up old F150 that had maybe once been red, but now just looked eternally caked in mud. 

"So why are you coming?"

He gave me a look. Like I was either an idiot or intentionally trying to piss him off. "You think Jason knows shit about hiking in the woods?"

Okay, that was probably true. Jason was even more of a city-kid than I was. I at least had gotten to go to the camps for wayward boys. Because Nature taught 'work ethic' or some crap like that. "No, but I'd have been fine."

He jumped in the truck, and reached across the seat to get my door unlocked. "Kori gives good head."

That was a subject I was going to stay as far away from as possible. Best friend or not, I didn't want to know how Kori bribed her boyfriends into doing what she wanted.

Roy cranked the car up and country music blared from the tape deck. He didn't play his music as loud as Kori did, but it was still loud enough to use as an excuse not to talk. I was grateful, and Roy probably was too. 

The trip out to the woods around Wayne Manor took about forty-five minutes. We were still a mile and a half from the coordinates when the road ran out. That was about what I'd expected. It wouldn't be a very good secret lair if anybody could just wander in. 

The hike wasn't difficult, but there weren't any marked trails and if we hadn't had a map we'd have ended up lost a dozen times. Finally, we came to a waterfall. It had to be nearly three stories tall and the roar of it filled the forest for the last quarter mile of our hike. GothamRoy and I stared at in awe. It was not what I'd been expecting when I'd gotten the map. I'd imagined a bunker or something else manmade. I circled the falls carefully, looking for an entrance to Wayne's lair. I finally found a group of 'rocks' painted with fluorescent yellow paint. The paint formed the bat that the police had used as a symbol during the occupation.

Kori had definitely been right. Wayne hadn't thought this through. Anybody could have seen the sign and gotten curious. I'd have to figure out a way to cover it up if I decided that I really did want to use this place as a lair. 

"I found it!" I called back to Roy, so he'd know to stop investigating the top of the falls for another path. I'd feel better once he wasn't suspended thirty feet in the air on slippery rocks.   
Between the two of us, we worked out the locking mechanism. A large section of 'rocks' sunk down to reveal a gaping doorway that was mostly blocked from sight by the falls themselves. "This is so cool!"

Roy grunted. 

My curiosity had me scrambling into the hole before I could think about any of the things that could be hiding in a cave in the middle of the woods. Once we were a few yards into the cavern lights came on. To reveal a cavernous space filled with rocky outcroppings full of armored vehicles, uniforms, weapons, and other things that I wasn't able to identify in the dim lights. In the center of the space was a computer that was taller than I was. Everything was done in shades of dark. 

"Well, he definitely kept to the theme." Roy commented, drawing my attention to the nest of bats that filled the ceiling of the cavern. 

"Yeah," I stared up at them. I wasn't afraid of bats, but the idea of having so many living creatures just hanging over my head still made me uncomfortable. Probably the city boy in me. They definitely put the final nail in the coffin of making this place feel like it was haunted. "I think I've seen enough for the day. How bout you?" I turned to see what Roy would say, only to find that he'd wandered off and was now poking at a rack full of weapons. I should have expected that. By the time I was able to navigate the narrow pathway that led to the weapons cache, he'd pulled a bow off of the rack and was busy stringing it. He was muttering something about draw-strength that I was happy to ignore. Guns and knives were the extent of my weapons knowledge.

"You planning to bring that with us?" 

He finished stringing it and took a few practice draws. "Yeah, It's a nice bow. Better than the one I have at home."

Fair enough. He'd helped me out by coming with me, letting him take a weapon I couldn't even use from Batman's stash seemed like a reasonable thing to do. "Ready to head back?"

He cast another look around the space, while he unstrung the bow. "Yeah, I think we've seen enough for tonight. Next time we come we won't take so long on the hike. Maybe leave earlier too."

"How do you know I'll decide to come back?"

He tapped me on the nose. "Because you're like Jason. You believe everybody deserves to be saved."

"If you don't believe that, then why did you help me find this place?" I braced myself as soon as I said it. He was probably going to start talking about Kori's ability to give head again.

Thankfully he gave the question serious thought. "Because I might not think everybody deserves to be saved, but that doesn't mean I'm an idiot. Somebody needs to be around to keep Gotham's psychos in line."

It wasn't the most poetic of reasons for becoming a hero, but I could respect his honesty. Hell, it was the kind of motto that I might even be able to make my own. I certainly wasn't planning to buy into Wayne's 'Anybody can be Batman' thought process.

#

For all his claims that being a hero was more Jason's thing, it was mostly Roy who helped me with inventorying Wayne's lair..] He was also the one who helped me to figure out how to resize he suit to fit my needs. 

He also started working on costumes for himself, Kori, and Jason. When I'd asked him why, he'd given me a look like I was being a moron and replied: 'You think we're going to let you have all the fun? Besides, you have no killer instinct. If we let you go out on your own you'd probably try to rehabilitate every mugger you ran into."

I wasn't that bad, but I didn't put up a fight about them using the armor. I'd be glad for the company and the fighting knowledge. Even after months of training with Roy and Kori I still wasn't anywhere near Batman's levels of badass. 

Finally, six months after the bomb went off over Gotham, we went on our first patrol. We stood on-top of one of the apartment buildings in the narrows. Below us, the city stretched out in a glowing network of lights. There were still signs of the occupations. Whole sections of Gotham stayed dark no matter the time of day.

But no matter how different it was, Gotham was still my home and I was ready to defend it. Kori came to stand beside me. "You ready for this, Nightwing?"

I felt a smile pull at the corners of my mouth. "Yeah, I think I am."

Taking a running leap off the side of the building, I sent a grapple hook out to the building across from us. I heard three other grapples hiss through the night behind me. Wind whistled past me. I felt completely free. 

Now it was time to free Gotham.

Fin


End file.
